Broken Origin II
by Dev Nine-Asher
Summary: Sequel to Broken Origin I Buffy and Spike arrive in S.D. Buffy deals with her developing feelings for Spike, meets her new Watcher, fights going back to school, gets her first glimpse of the Master, and attracts the attention of 2 vamps from Spike's past
1. Default Chapter

* * *

Broken Origin II: Chapter One

* * *

_Sunnydale, California: June, 1996_

Buffy woke up only when she felt – and heard – something crash into the car.

_"Son-of-a-bitch!"_

The loud curse coincided with the violent bump and roll of tires over a curb, and the sudden turn the car took jolted her.

Sitting straight up with her hair in her eyes, she darted a look around, her head dizzy with disorientation. She heard the harsh noise of someone laying on their horn for far longer than was necessary, and beyond that, the sound of another male voice yelling something indistinct. She heard a car door open and slam, felt a flurry of movement beside her.

"_My_ fault? Oh, you sorry sodding bastard!"

Buffy winced as the angry shouting continued, ringing in her ears. She pressed her hands to her ears and looked around for the source. The car had stopped, and Spike was furiously pacing outside next to the open door – all she could see were his legs and the glint of his belt buckle in the darkness as her eyes fought to adjust.

"Yeah? Come over here an' say that to my face mate! I'll rip your bleedin' rocks off and wipe the street with your _ass_!"

Buffy heard the intent in his voice, and saw him take a few steps farther away from the car, into the glare of the headlights. "Spike! Back off!"

The vampire turned toward her, a sneer fixed on his face – and then he jerked his head back around and actually growled at whoever had been unfortunate enough to piss him off.

Buffy put her hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and run interference if she had to, but almost instantly there was there sound of a car engine gunning, and the shriek of tires on pavement; apparently whoever Spike had been arguing with had decided to grow a brain and run away.

The vampire was still snarling as he stomped back to the car…probably because her presence had cost him dinner, she thought with faint amusement. The funny didn't last long, though, because everything came back to her in a dismal rush, and she automatically pushed back the depression that swept in to consume her.

"What happened?" she asked groggily in an effort to distract herself from the hollowness gathering in the middle of her chest, raising her hands to sweep her hair out of her face.

Spike snapped something garbled about a dented fender, a frustrated curse hissing through his teeth.

"Where are we?"

He ducked his head slightly to look into the car at her, an unlit cigarette clamped loosely between his lips. Buffy's breath caught at the unexpected sight of his vamped face, and she fought not to flinch.

"Home sweet home, pet," the vampire drawled impatiently. "Come have a look...if you dare."

She rolled her eyes at his attempt to sound foreboding.

Tired, muscles stiff, Buffy half-heartedly climbed out of the car to stand behind the open door and look out over the town. It didn't look particularly terrible beneath its sparse layer of twinkling lights. She then looked down at the sign under the car wheels and shook her head. "Remind me to never take driving lessons from you."

Not surprisingly, Spike ignored her, lazily lighting up his cigarette. He took a deep drag and dropped his head back on his shoulders, looking up at the night sky as he blew a long, steady stream of smoke into the air. Some of the tension melted off him, but his face was still set in angry, feral lines.

Buffy was horrified to suddenly catch herself staring at him, but before she could look away, his face changed back to human, and she watched the ripple of his features in fascination, right down to the last reflexive swallow and movement of his Adam's apple in his throat. She was still staring when everything about him went completely, predatorily still. Her eyes left his throat to move back up to his face, and she felt her heart stop when she saw him looking right back at her from the corners of his eyes. The dangerous, hungry expression in them made her wonder if he'd fed that night before they'd left L.A.

The smooth skin around his eye crinkled slightly as an evil, tiny smile curled the corner of his lips, making him look as if he somehow knew exactly what she was thinking, and wanted her to know it.

Buffy jerked her eyes away, stuffing her hands into her jean pockets to hide their abrupt shaking.

"Looks like somebody has a sense of humor," she pointed out, half-choking on the words as she tried to sound uncaring, noting the spray-painted, steadily dwindling population numbers on what she could see of the sign under the car. A long, uncomfortable moment went by, during which her spine tingled and her muscles tensed, as if the part of her that made her the Slayer knew she was being hunted, and was readying herself for the inevitable attack…

"Let's hope so," Spike surprised her by saying around the cigarette.

Relaxing, Buffy looked over the DeSoto's roof at him, eyebrows raised, only to hear him continue, "I really don't fancy moving into a small town chock full of vampires. Do you have any idea how hard it would eventually be to get a decent meal of a night?"

"You actually admitting you might have some competition here?" Buffy looked at him in surprise. Surely that wasn't insecurity she heard in his voice?

Spike violently snorted smoke into the air again. "Yeah, right. Not bloody likely."

Nope, she hadn't thought so. Buffy gave her head a shake, and then shivered in the night air. She ran her hands briskly up and down her bare arms. "So, are we going to, like, go to a hotel or something, now?" She covered a wide yawn.

"With what?" Spike looked her over as if trying to ascertain exactly what planet she'd just arrived from.

She blinked at him. "With 'what'? The money you got from going all _Sweeney Todd_ on my hair, that's what!"

Spike shook his head, though he looked amused by her unlikely reference. He rested the heel of the hand that held the cigarette on the roof of the car, and shifted so that he leaned on it slightly. "You've got a lot to learn about the world, love," he said with deliberate scorn.

Buffy forgot her discomfort over the moments before and put her hands on her hips, her body posture screaming attitude. "Excuse me? _Meaning_?"

Spike's eyebrows pitched together. "Meaning, it's _my_ money, not yours, and m'not about to waste it in just a couple of nights puttin' you up in some posh hotel room!"

"Hello, it was _my_ hair, you stole it - in a very traumatic way, I may add – and after the past weeks I'd be happy in an Econo-Lodge right now! Plastic cups wrapped in cellophane on the bathroom counter sound pretty _posh_ at the moment!"

It was Spike's turn to blink. He stared at her through the smoke drifting in front of his face. "Christ, are you tryin' to break me, woman?"

Buffy threw her hands up. "Fine! What exactly _are_ your plans for accommodation?"

* * *

"So…what do you think?" 

"…"

"Yeah." Spike grinned. "That's what I thought. It's not a bad turnout for an hours search, 'specially 'round these parts, is it?"

"…"

"I checked around downstairs, a bit. Place has two levels, sewer access, plenty of space – _if_ I…uh, _we_ end up stayin' for a while – "

Buffy was too shocked to catch Spike's little slip-up. "It's…a crypt."

"Well, yeah."

"There are dead…things in here, Spike. _Dead_ _things_."

"Yes…an' you're talkin' to one of 'em, pet," he reminded her with mock gentleness.

"No, I mean…look. Rats. Dead ones! Everywhere! A-and bodies! _Human_ bodies! _Dead_ human bodies! They're no longer _living_, Spike!" she hissed.

"So what's your point, Slayer?"

Buffy's wide eyes gave the dark, musty crypt another cringing once-over, her expression one of dread. "I can't sleep here," she insisted weakly.

Spike shrugged. "So don't. S'no skin off my back, Slayer. Feel free to go on your merry way anytime."

But she had no where to go, and no way, merry or otherwise, and they both knew it. Spike didn't bother saying another word as he wrapped his coat around himself and settled comfortably atop his dusty stone slab. He closed his eyes, and seemed content to go right to sleep.

Buffy might as well have been alone in the cavernous, dark space. Her skin crawled as she located a long stone bench along one wall beneath an arch-shaped window, but had to push off a mound of dead leaves and rags – which really turned out to be a mound of dead leaves and something furry with things moving it that apparently didn't like being disturbed. The bundle squirmed as she pushed it to the floor with her foot. She squealed in disgust, and then kicked it across the crypt, feeling goosebumps spring up in places she shouldn't _have_ goosebumps.

"Ew! Ew, ew, ew…" she danced around a little, shuddering, and then looked over to see if Spike had noticed, but he didn't have so much as a smirk on his pale face. She was sure she would have hit him if he had.

Exhausted as she was, Buffy ended up laying down on the bench despite her revulsion. Cold, thirsty, and extremely uncomfortable, she closed her eyes and prayed there wouldn't be any spiders crawling over her in the night.

* * *

At rest on his cold stone slab, Spike hid a laugh as he heard the hysterical squeal. He had determined to find a suitable shelter by dawn, one that suited his needs, not hers, but one he couldn't get _too_ comfortable in. Judging from the Slayer's state of near panic, he'd chosen wisely. Going to sleep with a Slayer glowering mistrustfully at him wasn't conducive to a day's rest. Besides, after all he'd done to her, and probably would end up doing to her, he didn't think he should find himself too easy in her company…

* * *

_Buffy was dreaming._

_She knew she was dreaming, but the dream was as vivid as though she were awake. It had the feel of one of her nightmares, but she knew this one was different._

_She was standing in a cemetery, surrounded by fading daylight and crumbling headstones…_

_She was looking into a red pool of boiling blood…_

_She was flipping the pages of a dust-ridden book, searching through faded black prints of gore-eating demons and dark arcane symbols…_

_She was surrounded by legions of the newly risen undead, an apocalyptic vision warning of things that could be…_

_Finally, she was wandering through a dark, dank place, stalking even as she was aware of being stalked. _

_If she hadn't already been held captive in the lair of another nasty monster, it might actually have been scary._

_A long, white, clawed hand suddenly stretched out at her from the darkness, greedily snatching at her throat, while seemingly disembodied wet red eyes glowed menacingly above…she struggled, lifting her hands to free herself, but her attacker suddenly released her on a howl of agony and infuriated defeat. _

_Buffy twisted away, aware of an even bigger evil lurking beyond the immediate threat, and found herself gasping for breath as panic set in…_

_This was death, the absolute death of everyone, and everything, and there seemed to be no way to stop it…_

* * *

Despite her exhaustion, Buffy snapped awake only a few hours later, in time enough to see the dawn making it's appearance through the grimy little window panes above. 

She was still breathing heavily, gasping for air, struggling for a hold on her reality. The dream had been so real, different; almost like a vision…

Rolling to a sitting position on the hard bench, she stifled a groan and rested her elbows on her knees, putting her head in her hands as she tried to ignore the discomfort in her back and ribs. She put the disturbing dream out of her head almost immediately – there was no sense in trying to truly hold on to her memory of it, of every detail, because she knew from experience that it would quickly fade anyway.

When she lifted her head to look around, made a face as she realized she could see a lot more she disliked about the crypt than she even had the night before. Suddenly unable to stand herself or the mess a minute longer, she stood up gingerly, stretching sore, stiff muscles, and walked towards the door of the crypt. It screeched a little when she opened it, but the quick glance she threw over her shoulder showed that Spike hadn't moved a muscle. He was still as death, looking eerily like a giant bat laying wrapped up in its wings.

Buffy shook off a shiver. Stepping out into the dewy morning, she carefully closed the inner door and then the outer behind her. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, and then felt an unexpected smile cross her lips as she closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the first rays of sunlight on her cold, tight skin.

Spike had lied when he'd told her she'd never see daylight again. Somehow she'd known that.

Feeling freer and younger than she had in months, Buffy took another deep breath and listened to the birds in the trees chirping for a moment before she took off running through the graves, the quick movements of her feet helping to stir the fast dissipating mist curling around the grass.

Buffy didn't stop running until she'd found her way back out of the cemetery. She paused at the gates, looking back at the sun as it slowly moved across the acres of bleak graves, banishing any and all shadows…for a few hours, at least.

Determined to put the dead behind her – at least for the day - she turned her back on the cemetery and started walking down the quiet street she found herself on, eager to see what the little town had to offer _besides_ vampires.

A few blocks away from the cemetery, the quiet, tree lined street became a little busier. Buffy guessed she must be nearing the town square, from the amount of early morning traffic crisscrossing the intersections.

Mindful of her appearance, she tried to keep a low profile as she walked along, knowing even as careful as she was that she was still attracting some unwanted stares. It was humiliating.

She was grateful unto tears when she came upon a Kwik-E-Mart slash gas station, with an outdoor entrance into a public restroom. The impossibly narrow door wasn't locked, thankfully, and she slipped inside the tiny space with a relieved sigh. The relief quickly turned to disgust when she saw the nasty state of the place, but she just held her breath as she took care of her business and moved to the small metal sink. The mirror above it was polished metal, so she couldn't make out much more of herself than a detailed blur, but she was thankful of it all the same.

She turned on the sink, only to find that the hot water didn't work, and there were no paper towels or soap in the dispensers. Sighing, she twisted the cold water tap and scrubbed her hands, face, and arms as best she could, before contemplating attempting to rinse her hair, and writing it off as a lost cause until she managed to get some shampoo and conditioner ground into it. Instead, she finger combed it, nearly sneezing at the amount of dust she disrupted from it. She finger-fluffed it, working through the tangles in the mirror until it was at least laying flat and straight to her shoulders.

There wasn't anything to be done about her clothes, unfortunately. The dirt and blood and sweat was impossibly stained into the fabric, and it turned her stomach to think how long she'd been in them. If she weren't careful, they'd rot right off.

With a helpless sigh, Buffy turned away from the sink, suddenly desperate to feel the sunlight on her skin again.

* * *

Xander Harris yawned and looked at his Tweety Bird watch as he waited for his friend to finish paying for her chocolate milk and donut. 

"Explain to me again why I allowed you to talk me into helping you rearrange the books in the school library when it's the middle of summer break and I could be doing some serious sleeping-in right about now?"

Willow Rosenberg turned to look at him, wiping at the milk mustache on her upper lip as she went to the exit of the Kwik-E-Mart, using her back to push open the door since her hands were full. "Because, Principal Flutie says we're getting a new librarian, and the library has to look it's best when she arrives, so of course I volunteered to help re-work the computer system, but it's a mess and taking a really long time, so you're being a wonderful best friend and helping me so I won't be stuck there until school starts up again, and I need – "

" – to take a breath. Geez, Will, calm down. I was just kidding. I'm here for ya, pal. You know I'm all about sorting through dusty old books with you."

The highly stressed look on her face dissolved into one of pure skepticism. "Yeah, right – " she cut off as she swung out against the door, and turned around in one motion, accidentally running into a passerby on the sidewalk outside.

"Whoops!"

Xander was right behind her, dropping his half-empty plastic bottle of orange juice to catch his friend as she staggered backwards.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, dorkette!"

Xander looked up and cringed – inwardly, of course. He drew in a deep breath as he set Willow upright on her feet and stepped in front of her. "Chill, Larry – it was an accident," he said, his dislike of the large boy in front of them showing in his voice.

"What brings you" _slithering_ "out"_ from under your rock_ "so early this fine morning, anyway?"

"Got a job – unlike some losers around here, Harris. By the way – I heard your Dad just lost his. And this after your uncle lost his at that computer company last year. Heard he's still not workin' – too bad he can't get paid for getting drunk off his ass. Failure must run in the family, huh?"

Xander balled his fist. The sad thing about it was he was afraid it was completely true.

"Hey! If Xander's a loser, then at least he's a good loser!" Willow piped up helpfully from behind him.

Xander looked over his shoulder at her, mouth gaping slightly.

"Show me a good loser, and I'll show you a loser just the same," Larry pushed nastily, forcing his bulk forward, obviously itching for a fight.

"Will, don't help me," Xander told his friend pleadingly, who blanched and mouthed, "Sorry," as she realized what she'd said.

"Let's just go," he mumbled under his breath, making to walk past the taller boy, but he was brought to an ungentle stop by the force of a hand planted directly in the middle of his chest.

"Where you goin', Harris? You tryin' to prove to your little girlfriend here just how much of a loser you really are? Why don't you stand up for yourself, man? You scared?"

His temper suddenly getting the better of him, Xander took a step back, lifting his arm to violently bat away Larry's hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but the hand was suddenly back, fisting in the front of his t-shirt, yanking him forward into a punch.

Xander was pretty sure his eyes went crossed for a second at the sight of those big knuckles bearing down on him, but at least he didn't squeeze them shut, or flinch.

The blow never landed, though.

It took him a second to realize the pain wasn't coming, and when he did, he blinked at the sight before him.

A very small, battered hand was clenched over Larry's huge one, stopping inches from Xander's nose. It was connected to a fragile wrist, which was followed by a delicate, slender arm. The arm looked way too weak to be holding back the kind of strength it was.

Larry's other hand, the one twisted into his t-shirt, suddenly loosened, and Xander stumbled back slightly, his own hand coming up to automatically smooth his shirt. He felt Willow standing behind him, felt her lay a hand on his arm as if to caution him. He looked back up at Larry through the messy fringe of his dark hair and felt his sense of surprise double.

There was a girl standing in between them and Larry, now. She was short, petite, with lank, dirty blond hair, and filthy, ragged blue jeans and t-shirt of an indeterminate color because of all the dirt and stains covering it. Her skin was mostly clean, though, and from what he could see of her face through her stringy hair, he could tell she was kinda pretty. Her eyes were what stood out most about her at the moment, though – they were big, but angrily narrowed, and a clear, bright shade of hazel green surrounded by amazingly long, thick lashes.

"Leave them alone," the girl said low, in a very feminine, steady voice.

Larry was staring at her as if she had three heads, and when he finally made as if to yank his hand out of her hold and get really ugly, the girl simply tightened her hand around his fist.

"I'm not in the mood," the girl said, again in that low tone, her eyes unwavering from the bully's as his breath caught audibly, and actual tears – _tears_! Xander's vengeful teen heart rejoiced - sprang to his eyes.

When Larry whimpered in his throat, the girl let go of his hand, shoving it back at him. She just stood there, her small frame tense with expectation until the boy forced a painful sneer at them. He clutched his reddening hand to his stomach, glared over the girl's head at Xander with a nasty promise in his small, mean eyes, and finally turned around and stalked off – in a hurry.

Still shocked at what had just happened, Xander continued to gape at his savior.

A girl. A _girl_ had just faced down Larry – _Larry Blaisedell_! – and was still standing there, breathing!

"Uh…hi," Willow said uncertainly from beside him.

Xander just kept staring at the girl until Willow elbowed him. Startled, he looked down at his friend, and saw her pointedly widen her soft brown eyes at him. He realized how rude he was being and lifted his head again, opening his mouth to form some sort of greeting, but nothing would come out.

The girl was standing there, a vulnerable look coming over her face as the confident fierceness in her eyes faded. She regarded them with such a hopeless, exposed expression then that he had to look away from her.

Xander shook his head as he sent a dark glare after Larry as he left the parking lot in his car. "And don't let the door hit ya' where the dog shoulda' bit ya'," he muttered belatedly, scorning his timing. He bent over to pick up his bottle of orange juice, just for something to do in the uncomfortable moment.

"He's such a jerk," Willow said unnecessarily from beside him, watching the car take off way too fast.

After a long minute of wallowing in satisfaction, Xander turned to the strange girl to try to say thanks again, but she'd disappeared.

"Hey." He frowned, turning to look in every direction, trying to get another glimpse of her. He wasn't so happy about being saved by a girl, especially a weird one with freakish strength, but she'd looked so lost and alone for a minute there that he felt compelled to ask if she needed help or something. She was already long gone.

Willow was turning in circles too, her chocolate milk, and donut forgotten in her hands as she noticed the girl's abrupt absence. "Where'd she go?"

* * *

Buffy's heart was thundering in her chest from the encounter as she slipped down the alley behind the convenience store. Once she felt like she was safely out of sight from prying eyes, she collapsed against a chain link fence and wrapped her arms around herself. 

She should never have interfered, but when she'd crept out of the restroom and seen the big bully standing over the other two teens on the sidewalk, she'd experienced such a feeling of outrage that she hadn't been able to help herself.

Well, she was the Slayer, right? She was supposed to help protect the innocent, wasn't she?

Right. From vampires. From _killers_.

Not teenage boys who needed to pick on their peers because of something lacking in themselves.

Buffy fisted her hand, the one that had been wrapped around the bully's, and remembered how angry she'd been. She'd almost broken every bone in the boy's hand. She could have done it, easily. As it was, she could still feel the bones grinding and twisting together…it made her feel sick.

She'd scared herself back there. Been frightened of what she was capable of.

Buffy held up her hands, turning them over and looking at them closely, still amazed at their strength even after everything that had happened. Blinking in the daylight, she took a deep lungful of air, feeling a strange force course through her. It made her realize there, in that alley full of sunlight and shadows, that though she might be the only Slayer in the world, without family, without friends, as well as alone, she still had the power to do things – to change things. Or at least try.

Back in L.A., she'd grown up with everything, had anything she'd ever wanted. Life had been all about her, and she'd been so filled with herself that she'd been blind to so many things that went on around her. Until now, even, every thought had been about herself – how her parents deaths and Merrick's had affected _her_, how her calling, and her subsequent abduction had been so unfair – to _her_.

Was that the only thing she was good at? Feeling sorry for herself?

"It doesn't matter what I feel," she murmured aloud, still staring at her hands.

And it didn't. She might be alone, but at least she had a purpose in life. She knew without a doubt that she was still alive, and here, for a reason. That was more knowledge than most people ever received.

She caught sight of the thick white scar jaggedly crossing her wrist, and narrowed her eyes.

Buffy dropped her hands and straightened her back, smiling slightly as she felt a huge burden leave her shoulders. It wasn't that she didn't still feel the weight of the world – she doubted that feeling would ever go away, or lessen. It was just the plain and simple fact that she knew she could make a difference. It was her choice.

She could save _lives_.She could _help_.

Tilting her face up into the sun, Buffy closed her eyes. She knew what she was now, was free, and no one was going to take that away from her ever again; she'd make sure of it.

Forgetting how hungry and thirsty she was, Buffy opened her eyes again and continued down the alley. She was moving with intent now. She'd spend the day learning the lay of the little town, she decided, and when the night came, she'd introduce the new Slayer to the creatures of the Hellmouth…

…starting with Spike.

* * *

It was around seven in the evening when Buffy re-entered the cemetery – Restfield, she reminded herself, re-reading the sign over the gates. 

She'd had a long day, wandering the town of Sunnydale. She'd also learned a lot of interesting – well, weird, maybe – things about it.

Like the fact that she'd already counted twelve cemeteries within city limits, and twenty-eight churches, with the sneaking suspicion that there were more yet to be found. She'd also found her way to Sunnydale High. The school was closed for the summer, and she thought that if she timed her visits just right, and after dark, she just might be able to gain access to the showers while the care-takers were away.

Buffy sighed as she walked along over grass and gravel, carefully picking her way around gravestones in the orange and purple twilight. She'd done a fair amount of walking that day, but surprisingly found herself gaining energy as the evening wore on.

It was a good thing, too. She had the feeling she was going to need it.

A sense of trepidation gripped her as she finally drew near her destination. The crypt. It didn't look much different from the others surrounding it, but the knowledge of what dwelled within made it seem more sinister, even in the light.

Buffy shivered, despite the heat of the day that still clung to the air, and went to cross her arms over her chest. She caught sight of the scar on her wrist again, and it was enough to make her nervousness disappear. The view of it made her angry, and suddenly fear just wasn't even an option anymore.

She was striding across the ground toward the silent crypt, determination in every step, when her toe caught on something partially buried in the grass, and she tripped.

Buffy scowled, managing to catch herself, and looked down to see what she'd tripped over. In that moment, a feeling of déjà vu swept over her so strongly that it nearly made her sick to her stomach. The feeling quickly passed, though, when she saw that she hadn't tripped over another body, but something else entirely. Something she stupidly hadn't given thought to the entire day, and which was a welcome sight indeed…

* * *

Spike was already sluggishly waking up when he heard the Slayer return. 

He'd known precisely the moment she'd left the crypt that morning, but he hadn't cared enough to do anything about it. He'd actually been pretty damned pleased, because sleep was a scarce thing with a Slayer – little threat, or no - loitering only steps away.

He was about to open his eyes and give a long, leisurely stretch on his stone perch when he felt an incredibly rough, strong tug at one corner of his duster where it was wrapped under his side. He yelped, and found himself flying through the air. The leather actually made a snapping sound as it rolled out and stretched, whipping him into a crazy spin right off the lid of the tomb. His eyes popped open in enough time to see a whirl of color before he hit the stone floor and rolled across it, to land face down, the impact making him groan.

"You _bit_ me," the Slayer's voice accused from somewhere overhead, and Spike pushed himself up enough to see two little tennis shoe clad feet standing spread apart before him. He winced slightly before getting his own feet under him and standing, working kinks out of his back and shoulders. "What the bloody hell was that all about, then?" he complained, still too asleep to feel more than just vaguely murderous.

"You. Bit. Me."

Holding one side of his head where it'd struck the floor, Spike glared over at her, violence flaring in the depths of his eyes. "Yeah, I bit you – and I'm about to do it again, if you don't watch yourself," he promised menacingly.

Buffy put her hands on hips and gave his rumpled appearance a slow, insulting once over as he picked up his duster and lazily started sorting through it. His hair was thoroughly mussed; the short curls looked ridiculously soft and they were sticking up at all angles. His black t-shirt was faded out, stretched at the neck and wrinkled. Dried cemetery mud speckled his scuffed boots and had splashed up the lower legs of his jeans. She shook her head.

"Spike, when was the last time you washed your jeans? Strike that, when was the last time you washed _anything_?" It was truly disgusting how badly dirt _didn't_ make him look any less attractive. Buffy stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation to that last thought, and turned her nose up as she'd smelled something funny.

"Ha. You've got room to talk," Spike said resentfully, motioning pointedly to his nose with his thumb as he found his lighter.

"Like you gave me a choice!" Buffy half-snarled, all too aware of her bedraggled, matted hair, dirty skin, and filthy, torn clothing. Her teeth felt fuzzy enough to carpet an entire house.

"If I offend your oh-so delicate sense of smell, you should see about finding me a decent shower!"

"See about it yourself," Spike snapped in irritation. He put the cigarette in between his lips, swinging his duster on and settling it comfortably on his shoulders. "I've got more important things to do tonight."

Buffy crossed her arms, swallowing. She'd known all day that this confrontation was coming. "Like what, eating a bunch of Girl scouts?" she challenged.

Spike strode over to her, his close stance intimidating. He blew a ring of smoke at her head. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

Buffy waved the smoke away, grinding her teeth in frustration despite her instinctive fear of him. "I'm not letting you kill anybody, Spike!"

His eyes narrowed as he flicked away the cigarette, and then leaned down until he was right in her face. "What makes you think you can stop me, Slayer?" he asked menacingly, his features changing. His yellow-gold eyes glittered from between slitted lids as he snapped his fangs at her. "What makes you think you can stop me from killin' you right now if I wanted to?"

Buffy's expression never changed as her fingers grasped the rough, weathered wood of the old canopy stake she'd tucked into the back of her waistband beneath her shirt. She uncrossed her arms, and suddenly the dull but deadly point was between them, the power in her arm steadily pressing it into his chest.

"I was thinking maybe, this."

The look on the vampire's face was priceless before he took a step back, lifting a hand to press it to the area above his heart. She hadn't pushed hard enough to break the skin, but she was pretty sure she'd left a nasty indent with aspirations of becoming a deep tissue bruise.

"You tried to stake me, you bloody bitch!" Spike suddenly shouted in a tone of awed disbelief.

Buffy kept her expression cool as she crossed her arms again. "And you're surprised about this? But, no, if I'd really wanted to do it a second ago, I could have."

Spike growled at her, but Buffy suddenly launched into speech, perhaps startling herself even more than him with her vehemence.

"Don't you want to do anything else with your existence?" she blurted. "You're like a big, spoiled baby, running around, doing whatever you want, hurting whoever you want…you don't even have a reason for it! I mean, sure you have a reputation for being a bad ass, but you're nothing else to anyone or anything but a killer waiting his turn to be staked. Do you really want to go out that way, a footnote in some Watcher's dusty old diary?"

Spike was speechless for a moment before his expression changed from surprise to one of blatant suspicion. "Careful – almost sounded like you're startin' to care for me. You're not gonna' change me into something I'm not, Slayer." He wriggled black-nailed fingers at her. "M'not gonna' be your soddin' little pet vampire. Don't try to push me into a do-gooder role. It won't work."

Buffy just continued watching him, concentrating on keeping her voice steady. "I don't want a pet. I don't care if you're good or evil, or, God forbid, stuck someplace in between. But it comes down to this – I catch you killing, I kill you. It's that simple."

Spike's eyes burned into her back as he watched her turn and go towards the door.

"Not if I kill you first."

With a bravado she didn't feel, Buffy calmly looked back at him. "You're welcome to try. Just between you and me though, I don't think you can bring yourself to do it. You've had one too many chances already, and you didn't follow through."

"I had motives," Spike said defensively, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Lots of 'em."

"Yeah? Well, let me know when you've decided to stop making _excuses_." Hefting the stake, Buffy threw him a last warning glance over her shoulder as she reached the door.

"Where are you goin'?" the vampire asked on a snarl, clearly unhappy at having his so-called authority challenged.

"I'm the Slayer, aren't I?" Buffy's hazel eyes turned cold before she directed them back in front of her and tugged hard on the door handle, ignoring the resulting screech.

"I'm going to go slay…incidentally, you may wanna' stay out of my way tonight. I'll be back by dawn."

"I'll be counting the minutes, I'm sure," The vampire snarled at her back as she closed the door behind her.

Outside in the late dusk, Buffy stopped long enough to allow herself a small, triumphant smile before she set off into the night.

* * *

Spike sent a killing look at the door as it closed. 

He wasn't in the mood to deal with the Slayer right now. He'd had to listen to Angelus's commands for the first twenty fucking years of his unlife, and he'd had enough of it to last an eternity. No one was ordering him around again, especially not a little girl at least a foot shorter than him.

Well, maybe half a foot.

His expression growing sour, Spike set to putting his clothes to rights, and straightening his hair before he stepped out of the crypt to trail the Slayer.

It'd been true, what he'd told her about having more important things to do tonight, but he found himself following the girl despite himself. He was curious to see what she was up to – something about the aggravating little chit had changed during the day, that much was for certain.

Maybe the Slayer's new determination to rush out and get herself eaten killin' baddies could be put to good use, he decided. Use the Slayer as a calling card of sorts; draw out the great-grand sire - if the flighty she-bitch was even still around these parts, as he'd heard. Which she probably was. There was too much power in the air hereabouts for her not to be. He recalled the old Master had always been the one she'd run to when things too hot and heavy for her to handle, and he'd wager that's exactly what Darla had done when Angelus had gone all soul-having all those years back - the toadying little trull.

Even if she didn't show herself right away, it wouldn't take long for one of the Master's lesser minions to report back that another Master had horned in on their territory – which Spike had every intention of doing. Unlike Los Angeles, Sunnydale looked to be a juicy little berg, and he had the feeling nothing could ever bore him here.

A menacing smile crossed his face as he caught sight of the little blond walking just ahead of him, with her pert nose stuck up in the air and her pitiful excuse for a stake gripped tight in her fist at her side. She sure thought she was something, didn't she, thought she was stalking the night for uglies, thought everything was going to happen on her terms. She really had no idea she was the one being hunted by the vamps she seemed convinced she was keeping such a vigilant lookout for.

Spike shook his head as he caught sight of one of his kind moving along the tops of the crypts lining the path the Slayer had taken. Here was a prime example of how little experience she had. She obviously couldn't sense the vampire's presence, because she just kept walking right along, oblivious to the evil dogging her heels. Again he found himself disgusted by her ineptness as a Slayer. Sure, the girl had her moments, but it wouldn't take much for any vamp worth his swagger to take her out.

Up ahead, the Slayer let out a startled yelp, and Spike ran forward a bit to get a better look at what was going on. He stopped in the shadow of a tree, peering toward her, fully expecting to see the girl tussling with her blood-sucking shadow. Instead he saw her picking herself up from the ground, brushing at her clothes and grumbling angrily to herself. He rolled his eyes - she'd _tripped_.

It was during this bout of clumsiness that Spike chanced to see the stalking vampire perched on the low roof of a tomb right above her. The demon's eyes flashed in the darkness as it gathered itself to strike.

Spike watched the attack with detached interest, at first, tempted to leave the girl to her fate – it was no less than she deserved, after all – but sadly her death would put a pinch in his slowly evolving plans. He needed to keep her around for a little while longer…

* * *

Buffy was unknotting and re-tying her stubborn shoelace when the vampire attacked. It hit her in a flying leap, jarring her shoulder and her arm nearly out of its socket. Instinctively she rolled with the force, bracing her hands and feet against the growling creature's body, and using the momentum to push it away. She'd left her stake on the ground beside her when she'd tripped over the shoelace – she needed to find it, and quick. 

She was scrabbling around in the grass when the vampire struck again. It hadn't wasted any time, renewing its attack with furious intensity. Buffy gasped as it locked an arm brutally around her throat, dragging her head backward in preparation of its bite.

Already seeing black spots in her vision, Buffy grabbed at the forearm choking off her air, struggling backwards in an attempt to throw the vampire off-balance to keep it from sinking it's fangs into her neck. She felt a trickle of saliva against her skin and shuddered in revulsion, tearing at the vamp's forearm with her fingernails. It hissed in her ear and tightened its already lethal hold on her throat.

In very real danger of blacking out, Buffy gave a desperate kick backwards with heel of her shoe, feeling it connect with the vampire's knee. The kneecap popped on impact, and the vampire howled, falling back.

Though she was dizzy from lack of oxygen, Buffy knew she didn't dare hesitate, not even to catch her breath – hesitation was a bad thing in her line of work, and she'd just learned that lesson the hard way, _twice_.

Her throat felt crushed, and she gasped for air as she stumbled forward, falling to her knees as she finally saw the stake. She managed to wrap her hand around it as she heard the enraged vamp come up behind her, and quickly rolled onto her back as it flung itself at her. She blindly jabbed the stake up in front of her as it descended, but never knew if it hit it's target as the world abruptly went black.

She woke up a few minutes later, or at least that's what it felt like to her.

Buffy sat up, clutching her pounding head, still holding onto the stake for dear life, her breath wheezing in her bruised throat. It took her a few minutes to realize that she was still alive, and another couple after that to stop marveling over the miracle of it.

Hurting all over, she finally gained her feet. She stood in the silent graveyard, her eyes darting around for the vamp that had attacked her. She found it in a pile of scattered black ash at her feet.

"Huh," she said to no one in particular, wincing as the sound gouged her sore throat. She toed the ashes with her shoe, stirring the little motes of black dust with a sense of pride. It was stupid to feel pride over a kill that had been nothing but dumb luck, she knew, but the knowledge that she'd done it helped boost her confidence.

After a moment of straightening herself out, both mentally and physically, she gripped her trusty stake in her hand and set out through the cemetery again. Yeah, she hurt like hell in every conceivable place, but not badly enough to make her knock off for the night. Killing one vamp wasn't going to make much of a difference; she had to do some more hunting before she'd be anywhere near satisfied.

Then - she sighed, thinking longingly of warm food and hot water – then she could see about making herself comfortable.

It was almost time to make a visit to good old Sunnydale H.S.

* * *

From the dubious shield of a statue of a small family huddled together, heads forever bowed in prayer, Spike watched the Slayer all but give herself a pat on the back before she walked off again. 

He snorted. So she thought she'd slain herself a vamp, did she? What a laugh…if he hadn't snuck up from behind and put his hand through the blighter's back when he had, she'd be meat for the beasts right about now.

"Haughty little bitch," he muttered to himself, kicking the crumbling stone at the base of the statue as he started to strike out after her again. The Slayer might be strong, but she knew jack-all about fighting. If he wanted to keep her alive for any amount of time in this town, it looked like he was going to have to follow her around every second of the night.

Unless –

Spike's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of another vamp on the Slayer's tail. Grinning in anticipation of another kill, he crept forward, snagging the other creature from behind. It turned feral eyes on Spike, which widened considerably at the sight of him. It was obviously at a loss as to why another of its kind was attacking it.

Spike shrugged at the unspoken question. "Nothing personal mate, but I can't have the other fish nibbling my tasty bait, now can I?"

The vampire began a violent struggle, but Spike caught sight of more vampires closing in on the Slayer, and didn't have time to linger. With an impatient sigh, he thrust his hand into the vampire's chest cavity, breaking through muscle and bone, and closed his hand around the unbeating heart. There was a great sucking sound as he yanked the shriveled thing out, and then the vampire – and it's heart - disintegrated.

Spike made a face at the mess covering his hand, and decided there had to be an easier way.

An hour later, they were coming after her in packs of two's and three's.

After a particularly satisfying tussle, Spike grabbed the last vamp that would have chased after the Slayer around the neck, and jabbed the makeshift stake he'd acquired through it's back.

The vampire obligingly dusted, and Spike brushed off his hands, his eyes flickering up to watch the ignorant little blonde continue to make her way through the vamp infested cemetery. He sighed in frustration as he saw movement in the shadows of a nearby mausoleum, and caught sight of another demon creeping up on the girl.

Even after being attacked three times and suffering numerous injuries, the stubborn bint still wasn't showing any signs of giving up.

Clearly it was gonna' be a long night...

* * *

_To Be Continued in Chapter Two…_

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_


	2. Chapter Two

* * *

Broken Origin II: Chapter Two

* * *

Buffy dragged herself out of Sunnydale Municipal Cemetery at what she figured was about an hour 'til dawn.

She was aching and bruised, bloody and limping, but she was determined to make it to the high school to finally get cleaned up – she deserved it, after the night she'd just had.

She made it to the high school with little incident, though she had to duck out a couple of times when a Sunnydale police cruiser passed by.

The digital clock on the sign in the front lawn of the school read 4:15 a.m. when she arrived, so she figured she had about an hour, safe, to get in and get out without being seen.

Buffy went around to the back of the school, and kept to the shadows, looking for a way in. It wasn't hard to find.

There was a closed dumpster set close up against what she thought must be the kitchen area of the school's cafeteria. A bank of low, old-fashioned transom windows ran along the wall above it. Here was her way in.

Getting up on the dumpster took some doing, though, with her injured leg. The twisted knee already felt better, because of her Slayer healing abilities, she suspected, but it still felt agonizing trying to bend it enough to spring up and land on top of the dumpster lid.

Once up, she snuck a look in the windows. Everything looked dark and quiet – and not a little creepy. What was it about schools at night? And the smell…they all always smelled the same…

Buffy felt along the window sills in the dark, her fingernails encountering aged and splintering paint. All the lower windows had been sealed shut by countless layers of white paint over the years, and they wouldn't budge. She finally discovered one of the transoms above the windows was very loose. The long, wide pane of glass popped right out of its soft, moldy old caulking, and she carefully laid it aside to replace it when she left.

Clutching the top of the frame with her bloodied fingers, she swung her body up and over the main window and slid inside, dropping heavily to the floor. She hissed as her knee was jarred, and then sat hard on her butt, clutching the offending joint.

After the pain subsided, Buffy planted a hand on a long butcher's block nearby, and used it to heave herself up.

She looked around, and paused when she saw a row of huge freezer/refrigerator doors facing her. Her much neglected stomach flipped at the thought of real food, and she went straight for the shiny silver handles catching the fading moonlight.

The doors revealed empty shelves and compartments – she guessed it had been foolish to think there'd be anything in them with school being out for the summer, and all.

Sighing forlornly, she dared another quick look around the kitchen, but didn't find so much as a crumb.

Giving up on the idea of food, Buffy went out into the cafeteria area, and then into the school proper. She ventured out slowly, listening carefully for any sign of movement, but the place seemed to be deserted.

Passing by trophy cases and old cork bulletin boards, Buffy felt pretty much lost until she saw a small arrow-shaped sign that read 'Lounge'. Curious, she followed in the direction that it pointed, and found herself in a large seating area in front of a huge mural. Off to one side of the mural, there was a door with a plate read 'Staff Only'. She ventured inside to find a small teacher's lounge, complete with double coffee pots, tables with napkins and condiments on them, and - God bless those teachers – a regular-sized refrigerator in one corner, that just happened to hold several mouth-watering goodies!

Before she even thought about it, Buffy had seized everything she could get her hands on out of the fridge, and sat at one of the tables to gorge.

She had a little of everything – bottles of chocolate milk, a box of Twinkies, a wrapped half of a foot-long sub, bottles of spring water, an apple, half a dozen jelly donuts, and – wonder of wonders! – a bar of Hershey's dark chocolate. She was in Heaven!

When she was done, Buffy felt lazy and satisfied, but guilty, too, for stealing. She also felt like a beached-whale – she was convinced she was never going to get up again, but the gray light filtering through the windows told her she didn't have much time if she wanted to get clean.

Saying a mentally apology to whoever's meal she'd stolen, Buffy nonetheless wrapped up the ends of the food to take with her in a brown paper sack she found nearby. There was no telling when she'd get to eat again.

Leaving the room as she'd found it, she caught sight of a laminated piece of paper on one wall that held the layout of the school for fire exits. She was able to find the showers easily thanks to that.

Once inside the girls locker room, she sighed in anticipation, setting her sack aside. Before she went to the shower area, though, she first raided the lockers, hoping some absent-minded girl had left something useful behind at the end of the year. She found a full, trial-sized bottle of shampoo-plus-conditioner hiding in the depths of one locker, and a discarded yellow sweatshirt with the Sunnydale H.S. logo stamped across the front. A hesitant sniff proved the hooded sweatshirt to be clean, if not a bit stale from being stuck in a locker for a few weeks.

In another locker she found a new pink disposable razor, and in another, a single gold hair clip. She also found one black bra – which she quickly put back, because she wasn't anywhere _near_ desperate enough to wear someone else's underclothing! – an unopened box of tampon's – thank the Lord! – a burgundy hair scrunchy, and a pair of drawstring, double-layered burgundy gym shorts made out of slinky jersey material. These, she guessed, were accidentally left behind, because there was a number nine stitched in yellow on one leg. They were probably part of someone's basketball uniform.

Feeling as if she'd struck gold, Buffy hummed happily to herself as she gathered up her treasures and went into the showers.

* * *

It was full dawn, and slowly stretching towards full morning when Buffy raced out of the girl's locker room. She sprinted down the halls, shoes squeaking occasionally on the waxed floors.

She was so going to be caught, she just knew it! She hadn't meant to spend so long in the showers, but the heat had felt so good on her aches, she'd just lost track of time. She'd used the whole bottle of shampoo getting clean, and then awkwardly washing the filthy ripped jeans and underclothes she'd been wearing – she'd tossed the t-shirt, because there was no saving that. And then there had been her quick trip into the library…

Buffy ran into the cafeteria, and then into the kitchens, everything she owned in the world tucked safe into the large brown sack crushed against her chest. She was scrambling up on a counter to reach the window when her eyes caught the glint of shiny utensils hanging on the wall beside her. A number of small kitchen knives and a large butcher knife made their way into her sack before she pushed herself up and out of the window.

Crouching on the dumpster, she carefully replaced the transom window pane, earning herself a cut across two fingers in the process. She then jumped down onto the ground and ran around to the front of the school, her chest heaving from exertion as she paused to survey the dimly-lit grounds. The coast was clear.

Taking a deep breath, she edged around the corner of the building, and took off running.

Willow felt really bad for dragging Xander out of bed so early again, but the new librarian was due in Sunnydale any day now, and the library just had to be in order for her.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked for the thousandth time as they approached the school.

Xander, still yawning widely beside her, took the option of foregoing to answer and waved his hand in a "Don't be silly" manner instead. He was still rubbing sleep out of his brown eyes, and had sleep lines on his cheek from the wrinkles in his pillow case.

Willow's heart turned over as she covertly studied him through her lashes as he walked along beside her. Xander was her best friend, and always had been ever since she could remember – but she was in love with him too, and it was really hard not to stare at him sometimes. She knew he knew she liked him, and it made him uncomfortable when she paid too much attention to him like that, so she tried not to act like anything more than his old buddy.

But it was still really, really hard…

There were walking up the front lawn of the school, under some trees, and Willow reached into her pocket for the key ring the principal had given her to use at the beginning of her job. She was still looking down when they rounded the trees, and Xander suddenly clutched her arm.

"Hey! Look, isn't that that girl from yesterday?"

Willow looked up, to where Xander was pointing. Barely visible in the gray light was a girl in Sunnydale high colors, running across the lawn. She was in a hurry, it seemed, and she didn't stop running until she reached the sidewalk. She paused, and Willow saw her taking a look up and down the street as the streetlights clicked off, one by one.

"I don't know," Willow said doubtfully. "She looks different."

Xander was already walking off toward her, though, and Willow sighed, her brow creasing as she followed him.

"Hey!" Xander called when they were a few feet from her.

Clearly startled, the girl whirled towards them, her foot flying out and catching Xander in the chest. Willow watched in horror as the kick propelled her friend backward several feet. He let out a loud oof as he landed flat on his back on the ground.

There were several moments of silence before the boy uttered a breathless, "_Ow_."

Willow gasped and rushed over to him. "Xander!"

Xander was already sitting up, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'm okay, Will….whew. Just got the breath knocked out of me."

The mystery girl was walking up to them, and Willow looked up at her helplessly.

"Why'd you do that?"

The blonde girl chewed on her lip, looking very guilty. "Look, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have snuck up on me like that. I thought you were something – I mean, _someone_, else." She hesitantly stepped forward, and held out her hand to help Xander up.

He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. Willow stood up beside him.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked.

Xander, in all his manliness, just shrugged it off, trying to look cool. "Yeah, I'm fine – by the way, when exactly _did_ you escape from the mental institution?"

The girl's face fell, and Willow immediately felt awful. She smacked him on the arm. "Xander!"

Xander scowled and rubbed his arm. "What?"

"I'm sorry…boy's can be _so_ stupid," Willow told the other girl earnestly.

"No…it's okay. I'm really sorry, it's just reflex for me. I'm not used to, uh…being around people anymore." The girl looked at the ground, her thin face pale, and her expression sad. The sky above them was rapidly lightening, and that was when Willow was able to get a really good look at her. She gasped again.

"Oh, my gosh! Are you alright? What happened to you?"

The girl's face lit up in alarm. She clutched a brown sack in hands to her chest and began backing away. "N-nothing, I'm fine, really – "

"You really don't look fine," Xander said, slowly moving closer to get a better look at her. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need some help?"

The girl blanched and turned to run.

"Wait!" Willow cried out, and the girl paused, poised for flight. "Please, we won't say anything, if that's what you're scared of. Just…stay. Talk to us for a second."

Mystery Girl turned around, one hand fluttering up to shield the mass of bruises on her face. Glittering green eyes blinked at them through swollen purple lids, and then she quickly lifted a hand to pull out the scrunchy tying her now shiny blonde hair back. Her hair fell into her face, obscuring the bruises, and the girl pushed the scrunchy onto her skinny wrist like a bracelet.

Willow noticed a thick, slashing white scar across that very same wrist, and barely kept from shuddering. Had she tried to take her own life? Because, wow, did it look like it had hurt…

Willow watched her pityingly, and then realized the girl probably wouldn't appreciate her pity. "Um…we wanted to thank you, for yesterday, didn't we Xander?"

Xander was too busy staring at the girl's battered limbs to chime in. The girl wore a sweatshirt despite the heat, and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, exposing black and blue marks on her forearms. The shorts she was wearing showed off pale, skinny legs, and they were just as marked. He blinked when Willow elbowed him again.

"Oh, right, thanks. You, uh…you sure saved my bacon."

Mystery Girl watched them silently through her hair.

"I-I'm Willow, Willow Rosenberg," Willow blurted, afraid the girl was going to bolt again at any second. "What's your name?"

She blinked at them, seeming startled by the question.

Willow watched her, concerned. "Do you…know your name?" she asked gently, wanting desperately to help her.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. It's just been so long since anyone asked, or called me by it…I'm Buffy. Buffy…Summers." She held out her hand, which was very small, and very beat-up, and Willow shook it, surprised to feel how much strength was in it.

This Buffy looked like she'd been lost in a cave for a month!

"Xander. Is me. Hi. Nice to meet ya'," Xander said stumblingly as he too shook her hand.

"Hi," Buffy responded. "So, um…what are you guys doing out here so late - I mean, early? It's not very safe around here…"

"The library is a harsh mistress," Willow said by way of explanation.

Xander laughed. "Sunnydale? Not safe? You obviously haven't lived here very long. This place is like, the Boring capital of the world. Not much happens in a one-Starbucks town like Sunnydale."

Buffy didn't laugh. The look in her eyes was kinda' creepy, like she knew something they didn't about their cozy little home town. Her eyes looked old for her age.

"Yeah, well…I've gotta' book. There's…someplace I have to be. It was nice meeting you guys." Before Willow could protest, Buffy turned around and walked away. A few yards away, however, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at them.

"Just be careful, okay? You guys seem really…nice. I'd hate to see you get hurt…or something."

With that, she turned her head forward again, and moved off, walking quickly despite a slight limp.

"Okay," Xander said once Buffy was out of earshot, "_that_ was weird."

Willow had to agree. "Do you think we should follow her? What if she's in trouble at home, or something?"

"I dunno…hey, look at this." Xander bent down, and picked up something from the sidewalk. It looked like wooden tent stake. He dangled it from his fingers, a look of confusion on his face. "Huh."

"She must've dropped it." Willow frowned.

"This week is getting weirder and weirder." Xander shrugged his bag off his shoulder and unzipped it, dropping the stake inside. He then followed Willow up to the school, and they let themselves inside.

Willow went directly to the library to get started, but Xander headed to his secret stash in the teacher's lounge first, as usual. Surprisingly, he was back rather quickly.

"What's wrong?" Willow looked up from the computer only briefly, but quickly abandoned her work at the wigged expression on her friend's face.

"Didn't you say the staff, even the janitor's, weren't due back until Monday? That we're supposed to be the only ones in the school until then?"

"Uh…yeah?"

Xander crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned a hip against the library table. "Huh," he said again.

"Why? What is it?"

He shook his head, still looking mystified…and a little bereft.

"My Twinkies are gone."

* * *

Spike was still wide awake when the Slayer finally got back at the end of the morning. He'd slept so much the day before, he wasn't the least bit tired.

He was sitting on a stone sepulcher in a far corner, back against the wall, one knee drawn up with his forearm resting across it. His cigarettes and lighter lay at the ready beside him, but he wasn't interested in them at the moment. The Slayer looked – and smelled – a hell of a lot different from when he'd last seen her, practically staggering out of a cemetery near dawn. She'd obviously bathed somewhere, and pilfered fresh clothing and food – the wrinkled paper bag in her hand smelled of it. There wasn't a trace of dirt on her anywhere, and she'd pulled her straggling blonde hair back into a ponytail, so he could actually, for the first time, see her entire face . It didn't matter much, though, seeing as most of her features were bruised and swollen.

"What took you so long, Slayer? You look pretty thrashed."

"I had stuff to do…and then I had to go steal a toothbrush. _That_ was an experience."

His eyes caught the limp in her step. "You in pain?" he asked eagerly.

"Undeniably."

"Got your ass kicked, didn't you?"

"Nothing like getting your ass kicked to make your ass hurt," the Slayer told him wryly, wincing as she lowered herself to sit on the leaf dusted floor.

"Serves you right, goin' off like that. Stupid bint. Could've gotten killed – or worse. Pity you didn't. Would've put me out of your misery."

She didn't say anything, just leaned back against the wall and pulled a book from the brown bag beside her. She opened the cover and started reading, her beaten expression growing from bored to one of enthusiastic interest.

Spike scowled. She wasn't talking to him, now, was she? Probably sore at him about calling her stupid. Well, her silence suited him just fine – he'd never been one compelled to fill up the quiet with useless, rambling words, anyway…

His silence lasted all of five seconds as he finally noticed she had her little up-turned nose buried in a book.

"What are you reading?" he demanded to know.

"_Slaying for Dummies_," Buffy quipped bitterly without looking up.

Spike rolled his eyes and sat back against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling of the crypt, which was carpeted in old cobwebs, and amused himself picking out shapes for a few minutes before he sighed with boredom. He snuck a look out of the corner of his eye to see if the Slayer had noticed, but she was still intent on ignoring him. He sighed again, more heavily this time, and she gave her head a small shake before letting the book fall to her lap. He looked at her as if in surprise when she glared at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"What?" the Slayer asked in return, her tone hard. Her black and blue, hazel green eyes were slitted with suspicion.

Spike shrugged. "Nothing."

He watched her return to her book, and waited for a few minutes before he sighed again, more loudly.

"Spike," she gritted through her teeth, and he hid a smile. She really was too easy to rile.

"M'bored," he said listlessly, glancing at the high windows. It was only noon-ish.

"So?" she asked peevishly. "Go to sleep or something." She turned a page, never lifting her bruised eyes. "Isn't that what you're supposed to be doing, anyway?"

Spike moved restlessly, dropping his head back against the wall to look at the ceiling again. "I don't need that much sleep – never have."

"Well, find something to do, then," the Slayer said absently, busily skimming a page.

At her suggestion, Spike briefly entertained visions of getting up, crossing the room, and breaking her neck – or perhaps biting her throat out and playing in her pulsating, spraying blood like a toddler in a lawn sprinkler - but he found it just made him hungry.

Abandoning his relaxed pose against the wall on top of the sepulcher, he swung his legs over the edge and hopped down, slowly pacing the crypt until he finally found himself standing next the girl where she sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor. He was getting aggravated at her inattention of him when he caught a glimpse of what she was looking at.

"Oh, come on! What's this, now?" He swooped down and jerked the book out of her hands, shaking his head all the while. He held her place with his forefinger while he turned the book over to look at its binding. He scoffed. "_The Ancient Art of Hand-to-Hand Combat_? You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Hey! Give!" The Slayer was on her feet now, hands on her hips, wincing as her sudden movement pulled at her still-healing injuries from the night before. She reached for the book, but Spike stepped back, lifting it to look over the page she'd been reading. He gave a short laugh, and flipped it to continue reading, and she took another swipe.

"Toss off, blondie, I'm readin'." He reached out and put a palm in the center of her forehead, holding her off while she took a couple of frustrated swings at him with her tiny fists. He chuckled when she finally gave up and backed off, batting his hand away.

Spike looked up from the book and shook his head at her. He unceremoniously threw the book over his shoulder, and fixed her with a mock-pitying look.

"Guess you really weren't kiddin' about the _Slaying for Dummies_, thing," he said in a provoking manner. "D'you really think you're going to learn anything useful about fighting from a _book_?"

The Slayer crossed her arms and proceeded to stare miserably at his boots.

Spike chuckled again, and then stood there with a small smile tugging at his lips as he regarded her dejectedness.

"If you want to learn how to fight, I'll teach you," he heard himself offer.

_Oh, bloody hell, _he thought with instant regret.

The Slayer laughed at him.

Spike stared at her, frowning, and she kept on laughing as she stepped around him to retrieve the book from the floor.

"You, teach me to fight? Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll take my chances with the wise writings of David J. Wang, PhD." She held up the book and tapped the cover.

"There's nothing you can learn from Dr. Wang that _I_ can't show you, love," Spike told her, and caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing as she sent him another suspicious look, as if sensing some sort of underlying meaning in his words.

"C'mon," he said cajolingly, her reluctance goading him. He was bored, after all, and besides, hadn't that been a part of his plan, showing her a few things so she could last five minutes without him shadowing her every second of the bloody night?

"Why would you ever want to help show me how to defend myself?"

Spike shrugged, making a show of looking indifferent. "S'like I said. M'bored. Now come on, have a go."

She arched her brow. " 'Have a go'?" she repeated dryly.

He set his feet shoulder's width apart, and put his hands on his hips, bracing himself. "Yeah, come at me. Show me what you've got, Slayer…unless, of course, you're too battered from last night."

Her eyes narrowed, and she suddenly threw the book at him.

Spike, caught by surprise, instinctively ducked, and when he came back up, she kicked him in the face. The blow spun his head around, but he stayed on his feet. When the ringing in his ears stopped, he reached up to finger his jaw, and turned back to look at her. She was smiling smugly.

"Y'know what? This is actually kinda' fun," she told him brightly.

"Not yet," Spike growled under his breath, his angry blue eyes fixing on her," but it's gonna' be."

"C'mon, Slayer…remember, move toward the punch, instead of away from it, if you can't stop it with your forearm. Don't wanna' bruise your brain, now, do you?"

Buffy stopped Spike's fist, all right – with her _face_.

"Ow!" She clutched her throbbing cheek with her fingers, glowering at the vampire. "That hurt! I thought we were just practicing!"

Spike smiled derisively. "We are. Didn't say anything about it not hurtin', now did I?"

Buffy groaned. "I think I chipped a tooth." She ran her tongue over a rough spot on a molar.

"Sorry – forgot to tell you to clench your jaw, too, so your teeth don't scrape together from the force of the hit. Oh, well."

Buffy sent him an evil glare.

"What? You wanted to learn the 'art' of hand-to-hand, right? Well, pain makes great art."

"Is that another way of saying that if you hurt me during practice, I'll learn not to make mistakes on patrol that can cause pain?"

Spike cocked his head at her. "Maybe I meant that pain can make you creative in a fight."

"Well, I don't know about you, but pain sucks the creativity right out of me," Buffy mumbled, running her palm over her already bruised cheekbone. "I think you just like beating me."

"Be lyin' if I said I didn't," the vampire readily agreed.

* * *

"Had enough yet?"

Buffy took a deep breath of the cold, stale air in the crypt. Her ribs mightily protested the act, and she bit her inner cheek to keep from crying out. God, but she hurt. She hadn't even known it was possible to feel this bruised and still be conscious.

She stubbornly shook her head. "Let's keep going."

Spike's gaze turned speculative. "You sure? It's gettin' late." He nodded toward the windows, indicating that the sun had gone down. "We've been at this for hours."

Buffy's eyes flickered over to the windows. They were dark. Funny, she felt exhausted, but she hadn't even really noticed the passage of time. She looked around the crypt, realizing how dark the shadows had gotten.

"Slayer?"

"Are _you_ tired?" she challenged Spike, thrusting her chin forward.

"Not at all. I could go all night, love," he drawled, and Buffy felt her cheeks go hot.

Spike smirked at her, and she pulled her shoulders back, willing the blush away.

"Just shut-up and hit me, alright?"

"As if you have to ask..."

* * *

"I'm going on patrol," Buffy announced a little while later.

Spike gave her a dirty look from where he'd resumed his earlier seat, and waved her at the door. "Do I really look like I give a bloody hang?" he asked long-sufferingly, gloomily prodding a sore spot on his lean jaw – she'd gotten in a lucky punch, earlier, hitting him just below his ear, and the blow had almost cracked the hinge of the bone.

"Ooh, this responsible streak of yours is really sexy, Spike," Buffy said sarcastically, bugged by his easy dismissal of her.

Spike merely raised his brows at this, and stared at her, his pacific-blue eyes hooded and intent . "D'you want me to take responsibility for you, Slayer?" he asked too quietly.

Yeah, he'd take responsibility for _killing_ her. Buffy swallowed, and automatically took a step back. "O-of course not."

"Good."

Buffy turned to walk away, feeling extremely uncomfortable in his presence suddenly, but stopped as Spike spoke from behind her again.

"Y'know what? I think I'll come with."

"What?" She turned back to look at him. He was shrugging into his duster, as if he was actually preparing to follow her. "What are you doing?"

"Thought I'd tag along for a bit, s'all. I've got to go out anyway."

Yeah, to _hunt_. "Let me get this straight – you _want_ to come watch me kill all your evil little friends?"

"_I'm_ evil, pet – I don't have any friends. Figured I could give you a few pointers on the slaying, y'know, tip you off on vamp habits, an' all."

"I just told you I didn't need you to be responsible for me – even if you could feel responsible, that is."

"And I just told you, 'Good'. Now let's get going…and a bit of useful advice, pet? You have to look out for yourself in this life. 'Cause no one else will."

Buffy was still chewing over what he'd said, later in Weatherly Park - in between bouts of nausea from the demon carnage the vampire left like a trail behind him; all in the pursuit of 'training' her, of course.

She remembered reading somewhere about the human body having like, dozens of feet of intestine…it looked like the same went for more than a few species of demon. Her nose twitched as it was assaulted anew, and she couldn't withold a groan of misery.

Spike looked at her, regarding her calmly over the orange-bloodied blade he still held before him. The demon had actually attacked _them_ with the rune engraved sword, and Spike had taken it from him with little effort. His whole arm was dripping blood and gore, and none of it was his. Buffy's stomach lurched. Spike only looked mildly amused.

"You look as if you're gonna' heave," he casually remarked.

Buffy swallowed against the revolt of her stomach. "Do you care if I'm sick?" she asked resentfully. "Careful, you might have to start acting like a human being."

Spike had the grace to look insulted. "Bite your tongue, little girl! Just figured you for havin' a stronger stomach, bein' the Slayer an' all." He snorted and shook his head, bending slightly to wipe the mess from his weapon and arm on the leathery skin the dead demon had worn as a covering. "Shoulda' known better."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothin'." Spike peered up at her from beneath his lashes, a malicious gleam coming into his eyes. "S'just…well, you haven't exactly been much of a Slayer from the start, y'know?"

Inexplicably hurt, Buffy glanced away and stood stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest in defense.

"Oh, come on," the vampire slyly persisted, doubtlessly pleased he'd hit a nerve. "You have to admit, you're not built for the life – mentally, understand. Don't matter what you look like. All Slayers have the same strength, regardless of body structure."

"Are you saying I'm stupid, again? Because if you're trying to hurt my feelings, there, well, I know I'm never going to be in the running for a Nobel prize." Buffy said defiantly.

Spike didn't answer as he stood up, and studied the long sword in his hand. "Not a bad prize for a night's work," he commented, and then, unexpectedly, tossed the blade to her.

Buffy caught it carefully at the hilt, and then weighed it in her hand – surprisingly, it wasn't all that heavy.

"Well, it's clear we have one too many chiefs in this partnership, pet. I'm skiving off."

Buffy looked at him. "You leaving?"

He was already backing off, hands tucked in his duster pockets. "Jus' said as much, didn't I?" He smiled at her in the near darkness, teeth flashing. "M'goin' to grab someone to eat – have fun." He turned around, starting to stride off.

"Spike!"

The vampire put a hand in the air, as if waving goodbye, but he didn't bother to stop.

"_Spike_!" Buffy's eyes strained in the night. "Spike, I swear, if you kill anybody – "

"I won't kill anybody…_Jesus_…" drifted back to her.

"Promise me!" Buffy knew she was being stupid, but she was desperate for peace of mind – however flimsy.

"Alright, alright, I _promise_…for all it's worth, anyway. G'night, Slayer."

* * *

Despite Spike's 'promise' that he wouldn't kill while feeding, Buffy found herself sneaking after him. She knew Spike wasn't the sort to make promises and honor them, and the Slayer side of her conscience wouldn't let her rest until she saw evidence of it with her own eyes.

She tracked him through the dark streets at a safe distance, well aware of his ability to catch her scent, and knowing how furious he'd be if he knew she was following him.

Around one a.m. he went into what looked like a bar in an alley off the town square. After an hour or so of impatient waiting, Buffy saw him leave with a pretty dark-haired girl who looked about college age, on his arm.

A familiar emotion zinged through her at the sight, and it made her frown. Why in the world would she be jealous of Spike and that girl? She was like, _dinner_ to him. Why should she care? She should be, like, protecting her!

_And I will_, she thought determinedly.

Eyes narrowed, Buffy slipped around a corner and watched as the couple entered an alleyway down the street. She dared to venture a little closer, but only enough to be able to see them and barely make out what they were saying to each other.

"So…" the girl at his side said coyly, "what kind of a name is Spike?"

Buffy saw the vampire's smirking smile and felt her own chest tighten. He didn't answer, but then she knew what the answer was already. She watched him lift a hand to the girl's jaw; saw the girl's lashes flutter as he slowly lowered his head towards hers…

Buffy wanted to rip the girl's heart out and stomp on it when she saw Spike's lips touch hers. She clenched her jaw when the soft kiss grew deeper, and wetter, and she heard the girl moan low in her throat as she swayed towards him.

Spike's other hand came up to tangle in the girl's hair, but just on the pretext of pulling her head to one side so her neck was exposed to him.

Buffy's cheeks felt crimson as she watched his lips leave the girl's mouth, and she saw his tongue dart out to trail a path down her jaw to her throat. Her throat tight and her mouth dry, she found herself envying the oblivious girl as Spike caught one of her hips in his hand and spun her around to face the alley wall. His own hips pressed flush against her backside as he lowered his head to hover over her arched neck, her long dark hair still fisted in one of his hands.

Swallowing hard, Buffy barely managed to control her breathing as she watched him lower his head to the pulse pounding under the girl's skin. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything so blatantly…carnal.

Her breath caught when she saw his demon face emerge, saw his fangs lengthen and dart downward into smooth flesh. She couldn't help jumping a little when she actually heard the crackle of skin breaking, and then the barely perceptible sound of liquid being drained. Spike growled, a heated, animal-like sound deep in his throat, and he jerked his head a little, as if trying to settle his fangs deeper still.

Buffy's lips fell open as she looked at him, suddenly wishing more than anything to be that girl. She saw a glint of gold as Spike's eyes opened into narrow, predatory slits, and moved her way. She darted back around the corner of the building, holding her breath. Had he seen her?

After a minute, she dared a look back. She couldn't help it. Apparently he hadn't seen her, since he was still feeding, eyes closed again.

Buffy watched, entranced, aching with a strange want, until the girl made a soft whimpering noise and her head fell slack. Spike, true to his word, lifted his head well before the point of draining her, and let it roll back on his shoulders as he savored the last few drops on his lips.

Buffy caught herself licking her own lips at the sight, and then shook herself as Spike's face turned back to human and he backed off of the girl with a ragged, satisfied sigh. The brunette staggered a little, but he caught her, murmuring something to her that Buffy couldn't hear, and slid an arm around her waist to help her walk. She heard the girl stiltedly apologize, shaking her head as if she were dizzy, and then heard her laugh and say something about having had one too many. Spike tilted his head, smiling at her, and offered to take her back to the club to call a ride. The girl must have had enough wits about her to remember how dangerous Sunnydale could be after dark, because she just nodded, frowning a little as if she couldn't quite remember how she'd gotten outside in the first place.

Backing off, Buffy watched to make sure he did as he'd claimed he would, and then with one last, long look his way as he watched after the girl's cab, she took off, running all the way back to the cemetery, and into the crypt, wanting to be there before he got back.

She didn't have to worry, though. He didn't come back until nearly dawn.

Buffy pretended to be asleep when he let himself in, humming quietly under his breath, and nearly wore her teeth into nubs grinding them together, wondering just how many more girls he'd gotten 'pelvic' with last night…

* * *

_To Be Continued in Chapter Three…_

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_


	3. Chapter Three

Buffy The Vampire Slayer – Broken Origin II:

Author: Dev Nine-Asher

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_

Chapter Three

The first night after she'd followed Spike on his hunt, Buffy was walking out of Restfield back toward the center of town.

Though an air of menace seemed to hang over everything in Sunnydale after dark, she could still appreciate the simplistic beauty of the little place. The tree-lined streets were picturesque, the lawns and facades of the Santa Barbara-esque homes well-kempt and tidy. It was all very historic.

The further she walked into town, though, the more her admiration for the landscape faded. In reality Sunnydale was like a big toy jack-in-the-box of death, wrapped in pretty paper and bows.

She had to admit that during the daylight hours it was hard even for her to remember she was standing over a Hellmouth. She didn't know exactly what a Hellmouth looked like, and she fervently hoped she never would.

Buffy shuddered as she thought about her new home. Demons, vampires, witches; a town full of oblivious people – and one Slayer to watch over it all. It would have sounded pretty cool if it weren't so scarily true.

A cool tingle swept up from the base of her spine as she neared the square. She paused near an alley beside the Sun Cinema, standing in the faint green glow of the neon-lit sign above.

Spike was here. She knew it without turning to look.

She also knew he'd gotten far closer to her than she ever should have let him come. His presence hovered over her, nearly smothering her though he wasn't even touching her.

"Wondered whether or not you were gonna' show your face tonight, Slayer," he murmured near her ear. "Have a nice lie-in?"

Buffy took a hasty step away from him, heat rushing through her as she recalled certain events of the night before.

"I had a long night," she told him defensively. A _really_ long night…

"Yeah? See anything… interesting?"

Buffy nearly choked. "No. No…n-not really."

She kept walking, throwing an uncertain look over her shoulder to see him shadowing her. Her first sight of him after the night before sent a crazy thrill racing through her. She'd gone to sleep shortly after he'd come in at dawn, and he'd been gone by the time she'd woken, long after dusk.

Spike didn't say anything else, so she just kept walking, making her way down Main street, secretly envying the small crowds of people out enjoying the balmy summer night. She found herself dropping her eyes to the pavement whenever she passed a clutch of girls or guys around her own age – she felt unworthy, a sense of shame she could drown in - and for some reason it didn't have anything to do with her lack of stylish clothing.

After a few minutes of waiting for Spike to just go off on his own, or at least catch up to walk beside her, she stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at him.

Spike stopped, raised a questioning brow at her, and then sighed. "What?"

"_Why_ are you walking so slow?" Buffy snapped in frustration. She needn't have asked, though. She knew why he was going so slow. He was stalking, checking out the crowds for loners, people who habitually clung to the fringes of society …

Potential victims.

"Just allowing the ladies to admire me, pet."

Spike smiled harmlessly, but it would be obvious even to the casual observer that there was nothing harmless about him. His eyes looked unnaturally blue against the white pallor of his face in the flickering light coming from the windows of a T.V. repair shop.

Buffy made an exaggerated gagging sound and turned around to walk again.

Subconsciously, though, Buffy's pace slowed to match his. She caught herself studying him from the corner of her eye. Her gaze traveled up his long, strong, denim-clad legs, revealed by the movement of his duster in the warm summer breeze as they walked.

There _was_ a lot to admire…

"_Ugh_." Buffy shut off her internal dialogue before it got her into trouble. Spike obviously already thought he was God's gift to women. He'd never let her live it down if he knew she thought he was hot.

Speaking of…

"Oh, my God," Buffy suddenly muttered in disgust.

Spike slid a curious glance at her.

"That girl over there is looking at you like she wants to screw your brains out!" she blurted angrily under her breath.

And she was. There was dark-eyed blonde standing in line in front of the movie theater, and she was totally ignoring her date in her quest to keep her eyes on the vampire as he and Buffy passed.

Spike lazily lit up a cigarette, not even bothering to follow her narrow-eyed stare as he continued to strut along. "Line forms to the right, baby," he said with an absent smirk. "Why, you jealous, love?"

Buffy wanted to roll her eyes and hit him. "Hardly," she said with as much loathing as she could muster. She clenched her fists as she noticed the girls sultry gaze drop directly to the vicinity of Spike's butt. The girl's mouth made a little moue of disappointment when she realized the flowing leather covered his rear, but it didn't keep her from lifting a brow and biting the corner of her lip in appreciation as she continued to look him over.

_'Bet she isn't even really blonde'_, Buffy snarled inside her head.

To keep from growling, she shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pocket and encountered a stake, which reminded her of what she'd been up to this evening.

Earlier in the day, she'd been dismayed to find that her 'new' stake – not to mention her only stake – had gone missing. It hadn't been all that great of a loss, though, as dull as it had been. Going out to the old caretaker's mulch pile to find wood debris had given her something to do, and fashioning a ready supply of stakes had been relatively easy with the knives she'd taken from the school.

She'd known a moment of conscience when she'd pulled out one of the knives, recalling her promise to herself not to steal anything else, but what else could she have done? Besides, she'd reasoned, they were going to a worthy cause.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike leering at a pretty girl standing in line outside of a bar. Her hand curled around the newly sharpened stake in her pocket as her eyes narrowed.

A _very_ worthy cause.

"I've got something to show you, pet," Spike said just as she was about to say something threatening. She looked at him with both eyebrows raised, and he frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Sorry," Buffy said insincerely, "but how am I _supposed_ to look when a mass murderer says 'I've got something to show you'.?"

Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. "A vampire is a _killer_, not a murderer. Well, not most of the time. It's all about intent and premeditation, yeah?"

Buffy stared at him. "There aren't enough words to explain how very wrong you are."

Spike's answering smile was more of a sneer. "Flattery will get you nothing.

"I found a nest last night after I left you." He pulled back his duster to reveal her sword tucked within.

"Figured you might want this."

Buffy felt a sinking feeling in her chest. Apparently Spike's plan for annoying her this evening included him dragging her around for another fun-filled round of demon slaughter.

"A 'nest'?" she asked weakly, reluctance slowing her pace as he walked on ahead of her. In her experience with the gray, dinosaur-looking demons back in Los Angeles, she'd learnt that nests of _any_ kind were to be avoided.

"Let me guess…you're not talking about cute, fuzzy little baby Bluebirds, are you?"

"I still can't get over the fact that there really are monsters," Buffy was saying later as she and the vampire strode down Armstrong Valley Drive toward Shady Hill Cemetery.

"Like, who'd have thought there'd be demons wandering around under our noses? Who'd have thought there'd be demons in a park, of all places?"

Spike, predictably, wasn't impressed. "There are monsters everywhere, love…and they're not all of the supernatural kind, either."

Buffy was inclined to believe he was right, in this case. Sometimes the monsters were all too human.

A few minutes later she was looking up toward the sky, trying to distract herself by admiring the lacey patterns the moonlight made through the tree leaves lining the deserted, quiet drive, when Spike drew to a halt beside her. She reluctantly turned her attention back to the vampire and cautiously followed him as he made his way through a wicked-looking black iron gate.

"This is it."

They stood in the cemetery, a myriad of desolate buildings surrounding them. It was one of the older burial grounds in Sunnydale, and it looked it. Rusty black wrought iron fences were bent and twisted around sunken graves, with broken and weathered headstones peeking out of the weedy, unkempt grounds. It looked huge and endless and as if it had come right out of an _Evil Ernie_ comic – or as if it should have a sign on the front gates that said _'Sorry, We're Full-up'._

"Are you scared?" Spike asked as he led her towards a tumble-down crypt in the middle of the cemetery.

"Probably not as much as I should be." She hesitated at the threshold of the crypt, eyeing Spike warily as he moved aside in order for her to enter through the narrow door.

Was he planning something?

Her worries seemed to be unfounded, for he instantly moved in behind her in the darkness.

"Ready for your 'lesson', then?"

"Just let me grab my pen and paper." Buffy pulled a newly sharpened stake from her pocket.

"Right, then, let's get started.

"Vampires are like animals – "

"Thanks, Professor, but I think I've already read this lesson," Buffy piped dryly.

Spike gave her a silencing glare, and went on. "Sometimes they live in packs - sometimes they live alone. Look around. Just last night maybe a half-dozen, dozen vampires were right where we're standin'."

Buffy carefully scanned the one large room that made up the crypt. It did indeed look as if a nest had set up house here. There were moldy pieces of discarded furniture and blankets scattered around…and, she noticed with a growing sense of horror, that those weren't the only things the vamps had left lying around.

" I-It's a body!"

Staring at the corpse of a man left sprawled on the floor of the crypt, Buffy clamped a hand over her mouth, cursing her weak stomach.

Was she ever going to get used to the sight of dead bodies?

Spike of course, was unmoved. He looked merely impatient with her reaction.

"It's not a body…it's leftovers," he said calmly, bending over to check the corpses pockets. He pulled out the guy's wallet, and Buffy got a glimpse of a trucker's license before he finished thumbing through it, and tossed it aside.

Buffy dropped her hand from her mouth. "You mean it's a vamp? And just _what_ are you looking for? Does feeling up dead people give you some sort of cheap thrill?"

"My thrills never come cheap," he said accusingly. He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from one of the vest pockets on the dead man, and straightened up.

"Ew, you're stealing from a corpse! Just how low will you go?!"

To her utter embarrassment, Spike looked straight at her and wiggled his eyebrows. "As low as you'd like, love…for a price, o'course." He curled the tip of his tongue over one sharp white incisor, and she went all melty inside.

_'I can't believe I'm standing here getting all worked up by Spike, the Vampire Man-Whore...'_

Buffy's brain couldn't take anymore. She been denying her strange attraction to him for too long, and his mean-spirited flirting was getting to her, fraying her nerves. Her feelings for Spike were a part of herself she had to fight. She simply shut down all thoughts of him as a male, and focused on the matter at hand, hoping it would last.

"Great. I kill 'em, and you fence their stuff."

She rolled her eyes at the suddenly thoughtful look on Spike's face. "Forget I ever said that. It's not like you wouldn't already do that without me anyway.

"So. How can you tell this guy's a vamp? He just looks dead…well, _plain_ dead."

Of course it was pretty dark…

"Take a closer look at his face, Slayer," Spike said, motioning with his hand. "He's all fangy with the mouth."

Buffy almost made the rookie mistake of stepping in and leaning closer, but she caught herself and looked sourly at a grinning Spike.

"Let me guess. He's about to wake up."

"Now tell me you're not learning something new."

"Yeah, I'm learning not to trust a single thing you say."

"Finally. Thought you'd never cop to it," Spike growled.

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Aren't you proud I'm proving such an astute student?"

"Oh yeah, chuffed to bits, I am."

Waiting until the vampire turned away to check out the rest of the crypt, Buffy carefully inched her hand downward, claiming the unexpected prize she glimpsed only moments before. Luckily, the would-be trucker vamp didn't stir, and the folded twenty dollar bill barely peeking out of the corpses other vest pocket quickly made it's way into her possession.

She mentally apologized to the man laying on the cold, dirty floor, as she hid the cash in her bra. She tried not to think about the fact that not a minute ago she herself had been castigating Spike for 'grave-robbing'.

Buffy turned around to see what Spike was up to, and saw him watching her, arms crossed over his chest.

Had he seen her?

"What?" she asked challengingly.

"Nothing," he said carelessly. "But you may want to recall my tellin' you to watch your back."

Buffy frowned, and slowly turned her head, sure he was playing some kind of trick on her.

The trucker stood behind her, eyes glowing, hands curled into claws as he reached out for her…

After narrowly escaping a nasty bite-wound, and dusting the newly risen vamp in the crypt, Buffy followed Spike back outside – and right into the path of the vampires who were apparently returning to their 'home'.

There were five or six of them, and Buffy was suddenly shocked to realize she wasn't even doubting her ability to take them on – her instincts had again leapt to the fore, and before she even realized it, she had two stakes in her hands and was diving forward with no thought in her mind but to kill. If she'd been expecting a fight, however…

The lead vamp, a big guy who looked like he chewed up little girls for breakfast, actually flinched when he looked into her eyes, and almost knocked down his fellows backing away before he finally managed to turn around and run off.

"It's the _Slayer_!" one of them hissed, and before Buffy could move, the entire group was trying to follow their leader, getting tangled up in arms and legs before finally disappearing in all directions.

Openmouthed, Buffy stared after the vampires, a _very_ confused frown crossing her features. Like an idiot, she was left standing with arms in the air, two wooden stakes dangling from her hands.

"Why are they running?" she hissed in Spike's direction. "I didn't even _do_ anything yet."

Spike only shrugged.

Buffy rolled her eyes and dropped her arms. Instead of answering, she chose to take off in the direction of two of the nearest vampires, carefully ignoring the chill she got when she noticed thick tendrils of fog beginning to blanket the already eerie landscape.

Buffy ended up chasing down the last of the runaway vamps, and had them penned in a corner of the creepy old cemetery where the iron fence ended and a very high stone wall blocked their escape.

There were only two left, but within a few moments of tangling with them, Buffy knew they weren't going down without putting up a hell of a fight.

There was one female, who tried distracting her by lunging towards her as her partner came at Buffy from the back, but Buffy knew what was happening just as if she had eyes in the back of her head. She fended off the female by aiming a low side-kick at the bend of her knee, sending her crashing to the ground, and then turned slightly so that the vamp behind was attacking her from the side instead of the back. She sent a vicious back-fist into its midsection, and then came up with the stake to finish him off, but the female vamp had recovered and grabbed her wrist, knocking the stake from her hand.

Buffy immediately grabbed at the other stake, now tucked in her waistband, but lost her chance – and her balance – when the male vamp tackled her with his arms around her waist.

She was on the ground, struggling with two-hundred and fifty pounds of angry, hissing, hungry vamp, and barely keeping the female from gnawing on her throat when Spike stepped out of the mist nearby, walking onto a pebbled cemetery path with all the stealth of a wild animal. He just stood there, looking cool and dramatic, fog swirling in eddying circles around his legs and duster, watching her and her adversaries' frenzied antics with bored distaste.

The sight of him actually made her forget what she was doing for a moment, and she nearly got brained because of it.

Spike didn't make any move to assist, of course, and she made a mental note to attempt to throttle him later in his sleep. She wouldn't be able to kill him that way, but he sure as hell wouldn't look so damned hot with his eyes all blood-shot and bulgy, and his wicked tongue all swollen and dangling slack out of the side of his mouth…!

"Just what is that you're doing?" he finally asked.

"What does it look like? I'm trying to get myself killed!" Buffy huffed sarcastically, shoving the female vampire away with one hand, and fending the male off with the other. She punched him repeatedly in the face as her frustration mounted.

"That's not very smart, now, is it? Can't take care of the world if you can't take care of yourself, can you?"

Buffy's temper soared, and she grit her teeth, lunging up with her hips and forcing the vampire off. Ignoring the fierce aching of her ribs where the vamp had tackled her to the ground, she turned over onto her stomach, her hand scrabbling for the stake laying in the grass a few feet away. She jumped to her feet just as the two vampires charged her, and reached behind her back to yank her spare stake from her waistband. As they reached her, she flung her arms out, a stake in each hand, and caught her targets square in the chest.

Buffy backhanded her damp forehead after the vampires dusted, and frowned when she realized one of stakes had dusted right along with the vampire. She hissed out a painful breath, one hand roaming over her ribs, none of which _seemed_ to be broken. She looked over to see Spike still standing there. She forced a careless smile.

"Impressive…huh?

"Oh, yeah, that was a very impressive show - of your sad lack of _skill_."

"Shut…up, Spike." Giving up her attempt to look unruffled, Buffy leaned over to balance herself on her knees, gasping for breath. "I dusted them…didn't I?"

"Yeah, well, one or two vampires are a lot easier to kill than ten. You might care to remember that."

Buffy took a deep breath, but choked. The damp air was still thick with vampire dust.

"I killed all _six_ of them…just _two_ at a time. Besides, I got the job done. That's all that matters," she said coolly when she finally recovered.

"What _matters_ is that you stop throwin' yourself around like a tasty T-bone in front of every demon you happen across. If you want to live for very long, that is. Personally, I'd be the first in line to see you get your skinny ass kicked right off this plane of existence, but if I'm supposed to be giving you tips - "

Feeling sorely provoked, Buffy straightened up and brought her stake down towards his chest. "Here's a 'tip'!" she snapped, suddenly wishing nothing more then to see his dusty end.

Spike caught the stake between his palms in a flash, halting its descent. He jerked it from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder. "See what I mean?" he asked in disgust. "Can it with the puns, baby. You can't think too much, reacting is better; could be the difference between staying alive – and other things."

Buffy bared her teeth. "I was doing just fine until Captain Lou pinned me over there! Did you even notice how big that vampire – "

"You knew you could take him, else you'd never have gone after him."

"I lost my stake, and I couldn't reach the other one – "

"Another thing. Know your environment, know what's around you, know how to use it." Spike walked past her, bent down, and picked up a broken bar from the iron fence that had been laying right next to her the entire time. He slapped the heavy length into her hands and bent his head slightly to look into her eyes.

"Everything is a potential weapon in the hands of a Slayer - _if_ you know how to use it." Spike shook his head at her, and then turned around as if to leave.

Buffy's eyes narrowed, and she took the rusty, black painted bar and tripped him with it. The vampire snarled and got up onto his knees, but Buffy stood behind him and, holding the bar between both hands, made as if to choke him with it.

Spike elbowed her in her sore ribs, and she yelped, bending forward and pressing a hand to the spot. Spike pushed the bar away from his throat so violently that she dropped it.

Unwilling to lose tonight, Buffy grabbed the collar of his coat just as he was raising up, and used the momentum to jerk him down onto the ground. He cursed as he fell flat on his back and she spinned around to straddle him.

"Got any more 'tips' for me?" she huffed, gloating as she hovered over him in triumph, her hands flat on the ground on either side of his head.

Spike pushed her off with a scowl, and flipped up off his back, gaining his feet effortlessly. His nose scrunched up as he looked at her scornfully.

"Yeah, here's a tip, Slayer – it's called deodorant. Rediscover it."

Feeling disgusted with herself, Buffy made a face and attempted to get up off her back the same way the vampire just had. Unfortunately, it didn't work half as well as it had for him. She got halfway up before something tugged nastily in her lower back, and fell back on her ass with a tail-bone wrenching thud.

"Wow, did _that_ hurt," she groaned as she reached back to rub the offending muscle. She darted a glance at Spike. "Don't you dare laugh."

"Oh, I wasn't going to," he said coldly. "That wasn't funny at all – just incredibly sad."

Fuming, Buffy got up, feeling more embarrassment than pain. "Are we done here? I'd like to go and drown myself, if you don't mind."

"What's to mind? I'd enjoy seeing a good drowning. It's pretty entertaining, with the

gasping, thrashing, twitching, an' what-all."

Buffy ignored that last comment. "I'm going now."

"Come on, Slayer, don't ruin my fun – it's early yet. There's lot's more cemeteries to visit, y'know. Why don't we see what the evenin' brings…?

Continued in Chapter Four à 


	4. Chapter Four

* * *

Broken Origin II: Chapter Four

* * *

_"Noooo! Don't touch it!"_

"I have to fix it you big baby!"

"No! Stop it!"

"Keep it up, Slayer, and I'll yank the bloody thing the rest of the way off and beat you with it! Give me your elbow – "

"No way, Bleach Brain!"

"Sacrificial lamb!"

"Fang-faced parasite – _Ow_! Spike, stop it, that hurts!"

"Well, if you'd stop fighting me, it wouldn't hurt half so much, now, would it?" with a final, powerful upward jerk, Spike shifted the Slayer's dislocated shoulder back into place, ignoring the loud hiss of pain escaping from between her clenched teeth as she tried to stifle a scream. He straightened up and stepped back, his hands finally free to retrieve the burning cigarette clamped in one corner of his lips as she gulped and swallowed, and stared at the night sky, trying to pretend she wasn't sobbing.

Spike watched her, squinting through the smoke trailing upwards from his cigarette. He took a last deep drag from it and reached up to pull it from his lips before exhaling and flicking it away among the graves of the cemetery in a shower of orange sparks.

"You're gonna' live, you know," he told her dispassionately, eyeing her deathly pale face with impatience.

"Leave me alone, Spike," she answered miserably, her voice low and shaking. She shuddered as she gingerly tried to raise her arm.

"Hurts, don't it? Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I tell you the only way you can kill a Guaroknarl demon is by destroying it's heart."

The Slayer dropped her injured arm and glared at him in furious disbelief. "Spike, you told me its heart was in its _ass_!"

Spike shrugged. "Wasn't my fault you didn't take me seriously."

"Oh. My. _God_." She shook her head, closing her eyes as if she were grasping at the threads of her patience.

"Why did I let you come with me tonight?"

"Oh sure, act the martyr when _I'm_ the one going out of my way to do you a favor."

The Slayer threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, and then yelped as she inadvertently tugged on the sore muscles in her arm and shoulder.

Spike sighed. "You'd better call it, Slayer. Won't be slaying much of anythin' else

tonight with that wounded wing of yours – if one called what you do 'slaying', that is."

The little blonde gnashed her pearly whites at him. "And just what _would_ you call what I do?" she asked challengingly.

"I'd liken it to the reaction of a housewife when she's just seen a mouse," he said thoughtfully.

"_What_?!"

Spike smirked. "Yeah, y'know, screaming, hair-tearing, grabbing a broom, running for the high-ground and beating at Mickey with completely ineffectual swats…that's what you do in a fight."

"I do not!"

"Oh please, the minute you see a demon you totally fall apart."

"Well, that doesn't say much about you, does it Mr. _Master_ Vampire, especially since you're the one who's been training me!"

Spike's smirk turned into a sneer, and a brutal glint came to his eyes.

That seemed to make her nervous, so he kept at it, staring her down until she looked away.

"I mean….well, come on, Spike. You wouldn't be qualified to teach special ed."

"Funny, figured you for ridin' the short bus to school anyway," Spike retorted angrily.

The Slayer seemed to know she'd pushed him too far, and she turned away with a forced snort, searching along the graves for her fallen sword.

"Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?" she asked, obviously trying to change the subject. "That was only the first _demon_ I've seen all night – and this place was all but crawling with vampires the night I first came here." She straightened up with the blade in possession.

"You've got 'em scared, Slayer," Spike said very seriously, all the while laughing inside. "But it's the kind of scared that turns to angry. Most vampires are cowards by nature, pet. If we were all gadding around, making noise, blathering on about how we were gonna' end the world, your job would be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it? Don't feel left out, though. They'll probably start teaming up to get at you, soon enough. They'll have done for you if they catch you off your game. Not that you've ever really been on it. "

He hid a smile as she winced. How would she react to the knowledge that, in reality, _he_ was secretly building her bad-ass rep? He almost wished he could tell her, now – it would be the ultimate set down, finding out he was following behind her night after night, slaying all those demons and vamps, making it look as if she were the devil-slayer incarnate with the brutal mercilessness of her kills.

The cloud-cover tonight had only helped him move things along. While she'd been taking care of the dolts in the cemetery, he'd stepped out for a few, and helped along the rumor even more. Sure as they were standing here, the lone vampire he'd allowed out of his grasp was making a panicked round of the town, telling stories of the Slayer and elevating her already legendary status to impossible heights.

The Master was going to be forced to act soon, and when he did, Spike would make his move…

The Slayer looked around the silent cemetery, a deep weariness etched on her face. She held one hand over her bruised ribs, and hunched slightly because of the wrenched muscle in her back.

"I guess I might as well head back to the crypt. Just because it is so quiet and all," she hastened to add.

Spike tilted his head to one side. "Ri-ight. Just because it's so quiet."

"Oh…just shut-up and go bite some bimbo already," she grumbled, already stalking away.

Why the hell not? He was getting bored with the Slayer anyway, he told himself. There was always some kind of entertaining dark work to be done elsewhere. Besides, he was getting hungry…

"Yeah, I think will just do that… and you know what? I'll pretend she's _you_!"

Buffy gulped at his words, her footsteps suddenly unsure across the uneven ground. If what she'd witnessed the night before was any example – but she wasn't going there! She kept walking, intent on leaving Spike _and_ the anything but peaceful, 'Peaceful Acres' behind. Besides, as Spike had so cruelly reminded her, she badly needed to bathe…and the twenty she snitched from the corpses pocket was burning a hole in her pocket.

"Keep in mind, we've got an understanding, Spike," she called back, reminding him. "Pretend all you want, but if you 'pretend' too far and end up killing her, I'll 'pretend' to stake you, got it?"

"I'll shove that bloody stake of yours where the sun don't shine if you don't watch it, 'got it'?"

"Bite me, Albino Boy!"

"Don't tempt me!"

Biting her cheek in anger, Buffy continued on, slowly making her way through the fog.

She knew that she had cleared the cemetery of vampires – and one demon - tonight, but something in the air just didn't feel right…

Behind her, a fuming Spike struck a match on a stone angel statue and lit his cigarette, grumbling threats under his breath as he shook out the flame and flicked the matchstick to the ground.

Up ahead, Buffy felt something pass behind her – something that felt _big_. She froze, listening, and then squealed as something seemed to grip her rear. She jumped and whirled, bringing er sword up in front of her, taking a few quick steps back from where she'd been standing. She stared sightlessly into the swirling gray of the night.

"Spike?"

Spike took a deep drag off his cigarette and rolled his eyes at the sky when he heard her voice.

"Spike?!" her voice came again, sounding frightened and uncertain. "Spike!"

"_Jesus_, what is it now?" he finally asked, just to get her to shut-up.

Buffy swallowed in relief when he finally answered, even if he did just sound pissed off. "Spike…did you just…grab my ass?"

His voice came from far behind her, echoing eerily across the silent cemetery. "Oh, yeah, you'd _like_ to think so, wouldn't you? As if I have nothin' better to do than stand around and grope your cold, bony little arse. Don't flatter yourself, pet. "

Buffy felt her mouth drop open at the insult, and started walking back towards the sound of his voice, forgetting the thing in the dark.

"Oh, so you noticed my butt, did you?"

Spike growled something she couldn't hear as she came back up on him, and she stopped in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Who are _you_ to call _me_ skinny, anyway?"

"Hey! This is _all_ muscle, baby. M'not skinny, I'm _lean_. There's a world of difference."

"Yeah, well I'm half-starved, not skinny. It's not like I really had a choice, anyway, _Spike_."

"You can't blame that on me, I didn't kidnap you in the first place! You can thank those two morons you dusted back in L.A. for that!"

"You didn't kidnap me," Buffy scoffed. She crossed her arms, the sword dangling from one hand.

Spike drew himself up indignantly. "Hell, no, I didn't! I wouldn't have bothered kidnapping you – I'd have just killed you on the spot and been done with. I bloody wish I _had_ killed you the first night I saw you!"

"Are you saying you had nothing to do with…with my parents being killed?"

Spike looked thoughtful before he answered. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you. I had those two idiots banished for days before they got the incredibly stupid idea to bring you to me. Thought it'd get 'em back in my good graces, or somethin', I suppose. Didn't work." He paused and glanced at her. "You really don't remember that night?"

"Of course I remember it!" Buffy bitterly exclaimed. "I beheaded my Watcher, and saw my parents get murdered! I woke up in a pitch black room with a vampire stalking me! How could I forget?"

"No, I mean before that, before you woke up in the tank. When I – " Spike abruptly cursed and went silent.

"_Before_? You mean - ?" Buffy lifted her arm and looked at the white scar on her wrist. "I knew it was from you, but I didn't remember just when you'd done it! You bastard! I was suffering from some kind of temporary mental breakdown, and you _bit_ me?!"

"You started it, I'll have you know – you don't just kick a bloke in the boys n' get away with it!"

"God, I hate you! You're a jerk, you really are!"

"Yeah, well, keep remembering that…we both might just get out of this alive."

"What?" Buffy stared at him in confusion, but Spike's eyes were slightly wide and fixed on a spot several feet above her head. Her skin started crawling, and she heard the rush of air coming at her head just before she threw herself down onto her back.

A huge, meaty, scaly black claw passed just over her head, and there was a deafening roar of fury when the huge demon standing over her realized it had missed it's prey. The noise was so loud it hurt her ears, and she had to cover them with her hands as the demon roared again.

Buffy flipped up onto her feet again, this time managing the maneuver without falling on her ass, but lost her sword in the process. She dodged another swipe from the demon's claws and ran over to take cover with Spike behind the big, heavy angel statue.

Apparently the demon didn't have very good eyesight, since it seemed to have completely missed the direction she'd run in. A good twelve feet tall, it stomped around on cloven feet, making the ground shake beneath their feet.

"Why the hell is it so pissed?" Buffy yelled at Spike over the racket the demon was making.

"Don't you think it looks a bit familiar?" Spike shouted back.

Buffy peeked over the base of the angel statue and eyed the demon's iridescent black skin, and twisty horns, which grew armor-like out of the tops of its shoulders. She took in the fiery, ice green eyes, and the long spiked tail growing out of the base of it's spine.

"It's another Guaroknarl?"

"Yeah! Think this one must be a male!"

"Oh, crap," Buffy muttered. "We killed it's mate?" she yelled.

"Ha! _You_ killed it, you mean! _I_ had nothin' to do with it!" Spike stood up and turned to shout at the Guaroknarl as it finally sniffed out their hiding spot and stampeded toward them. "She's the one you want, mate, not me!"

Buffy growled in her throat and smacked the vampire's arm down as he pointed right at her. "Spike, you're a _pig_!" Furious, she dove over the base of the statue, and rolled into a standing position behind the rampaging demon, her sword now in hand.

"Fuck!" Spike threw himself facedown on the ground as the demon swung it's club-like tail and crushed the angel statue, sending huge chunks of the heavy marble flying through the air.

Buffy's muscles tightened in alarm. "Hey!" she called, trying to the demons attention. It didn't turn though – it just kept going right for Spike, who was lying on the ground, covered in stone dust and splintered marble. He wasn't moving and she felt her heart skip a beat.

"Hey, you!" Buffy bent and picked up a broken piece of the statue, flinging it at the back of the demon's head. It didn't even faze it.

The demon reached out a massive claw to grab the vampire by his head. Buffy didn't doubt that if it locked it's claws around Spike's head, it'd crush his skull with a mere twitch of it's fingers.

Buffy decided that wasn't happening. If anyone was going to make Spike go all dusty, it was going to be _her_.

Breaking into a run, she hefted the sword in both hands and was ready to jab it's point through the touch skin covering the Guaroknarl's rump and pierce it's heart when the demon suddenly turned on her, Spike dangling limp from one hand.

Buffy almost drew up short, but the swing of the demon's tail kept her from doing that. She kept going, jumping over the lethal spikes as they swung at her, and then skidded under the demon, sliding between its tree trunk legs as she swung the sword in an upward arc, nearly splitting it in half. The demon let out another brain-rattling roar as Buffy came out behind it, spattered in Guaroknarl blood and other fluids she didn't even want to think about. She saw Spike go flying through the air, and flinched in commiseration as he collided face-first with the ground. He'd wake up bitching, but at least he'd wake up.

The Guaroknarl clearly wasn't ready to give up yet. Its body was amazingly already attempting to heal itself, and Buffy belatedly remembered that she had to take out its heart. Wearily, she lifted the sword again, and almost casually poked the demon in its butt. Its legs immediately gave out, and it fell flat to the ground, instantly dead.

Buffy almost lost her balance as the demon's hulk impacting with the ground made it rumble under her feet, but she steadied herself, and swiped a sweaty shank of her hair out of her face. She watched as the huge demons carcass started to liquefy, and melt into the ground, much as the other one earlier in the evening had.

"Hmm, that's convenient," she said to herself out loud, "and also really gross."

"Sonofabitch!"

"Spike?" Buffy turned her head, and saw the vampire slowly sitting up, his hands clutching his head. She set her sword across one shoulder and slowly walked over to where he was, carefully avoiding the steaming demon Jell-O.

"Is my bloody face even still attached to my head?" Spike groaned, gingerly touching his face.

Sword still over her shoulder, Buffy crouched down next to him, one forearm resting across her thigh for balance. "Let me see," she said in a tired voice, trying to ignore the sudden agony from her much abused shoulder. It hurt so bad she was afraid she might have slipped the ball slightly out of it's socket again.

Spike swatted her away and stood on unsteady legs. "M'fine." He gave his head a good shake as if to clear it, cracked his neck, and resettled his duster on his shoulders before he looked at her. One side of his face looked a little red and scratched, and his nose looked like it had bled a little, but other than that he looked all right.

"How's your head?" she ventured to ask.

"I said I'm fine!" Spike snapped, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed one palm to the back of his head. "I'm fine," he repeated stiffly.

Buffy doubted that, since she could see a fine trickle of blood running from under the hair at his nape down his neck and inside the collar of his black t-shirt. She was too wiped out to argue, though. "Whatever, I'm outtie. You can thank me for saving your ass later."

"You didn't save my ass, you got it good and bloody well _kicked_!"

Infuriated, Buffy opened her mouth to yell at him, but then shut it, and stood up, marching angrily out of the cemetery. Convincing him of how very wrong he was could wait until later…

…_much_ later.

* * *

Her first stop was the crypt, to drop off her obvious sword, and pick up her clean jeans, and then she was off to the local all-night drugstore, where she picked up a few essentials – including a well-stocked First-Aid kit. She also made certain to leave a couple of bucks on the counter even after her transaction, to pay for the toothbrush she'd lifted the other day.

Buffy noticed the elderly clerk give her a funny look as she gathered up her purchases and left, and knew he'd recognized her as being the girl he'd practically chased out of the store in an effort to capture and turn over to the police. He didn't say anything, though, when he glanced down and saw the extra cash on the counter.

Buffy figured the old man had probably seen a heck of a lot more weirder things than some kid wandering in in the middle of the night, paying for a stolen item. He lived and worked on top of a Hellmouth, after all.

Outside the drugstore, she settled on a concrete bench between a potted tree and some newspaper machines, and took the cola and pre-packaged sandwich she'd bought out of her bag. She was very hungry, but she had a hard time eating it now that she had a chance to reflect on where the money for it had come from.

Thinking back on the fifty dollars a week she'd once received in allowance killed her. Remembering the stupid things she'd wasted it on made her cringe now. She'd been so thoughtless…and now she was lowering herself to stealing cash from the victims of vampire attacks. It made her stomach churn.

Buffy took a bottle of aspirin out of the sack, and gulped down four with the fizzing soda.

She didn't know if it was being around Spike, or just plain desperation that was making her slowly lose her morals. Maybe the Hellmouth was just sending out conscience-bendy vibes…

Setting the sandwich aside for a moment, Buffy sighed, and looked around the empty shopping district. The street lamps here were the old-fashioned black iron kind, with big, funny-shaped frosted glass globes covering the bulbs inside. They didn't throw out much light, leaving a lot of the street in shadows. She did make out a few of the lighted storefronts, though. There was a formal boutique across from her, the TV repair shop down from that, a Party Town party shop, a trendy outdoor coffee place on one corner, and very near that, a mysteriously lit place with wooden shutters drawn across it's windows and narrow, single front door. The sign above it proclaimed it the Dragon's Cove Magic Shop.

'Wonder if I could find a spell to make Spike disappear,' Buffy thought to herself sardonically as she examined the creepy storefront.

Maybe she could just find one to turn him human, or something…woudn't that be great? A spell that would turn all the vampires human again? She would never have to fight again…but surely that kind of magic didn't exist.

On second thought, though, maybe it did. If demons and vampires were real, why couldn't magic be real, too?

Buffy wondered idly for a minute what Spike had been like before he'd died. If what Merrick had told her about the master of Los Angeles had been true, then he would have to have lived way back in the last _century_.

Picking up her sandwich at last, and nibbling at it, armed with several years worth of reading bits of historical romances, she tried to envision Spike in old-fashioned evening clothes, and a starched white cravat. The image wasn't _so_ unbelievable…and it was most definitely a flattering picture, but she somehow didn't think that he'd been a 'gentleman' of any kind.

Buffy mentally crossed out the dashing, formal image in her mind's eye, but tucked it away for later to secretly drool over.

_'Nah_,' she thought as she unscrewed the cap of her soda – for once not diet, because sadly, she _needed_ the calories! - '_Spike_ _definitely wasn't upper class. He was probably a thief, a pickpocket, or something.'_

Yet even as she thought it, something seemed off about it. His accent might be from the lower class of the last century, but he was way too well educated to have been a common thief…more like Jack the Ripper. _Ha_. Maybe he -

Buffy wrinkled her nose as a funky odor caught her attention. She swallowed the last of her food and turned her head to see if she was sitting too near a ripe trash can, but there was nothing remotely close.

A terrible thing occurred to her, and she hesitantly lifted her sweat-damp shirt to her nose.

It was _her_.

"Ewww…"

* * *

Buffy sliced up a couple of her fingers on the transom pane again, getting back into the high school to get cleaned up.

Luckily, she wasn't nervous this time since she wasn't really in a hurry. It was only around two a.m., so she had plenty of time to maneuver. She actually wandered around a bit, learning the layout, and found a much easier way in for the future by pushing a small piece of folded paper between the locks of one of the older, ground floor classroom windows.

After a few minutes, she headed through the dark halls toward the locker rooms, stopping briefly to guiltily replace the box of Twinkies she'd nabbed the night before last. They weren't the same brand, but they'd been the best she could afford at the over-priced drugstore.

Feeling a little better that she at least attempted to right some of her wrongs, she proceeded to the showers and lost herself in the hot water for a while. When she got out, she rubbed her hand across the steamed mirrors and looked at herself closely. She wasn't terribly impressed with what she saw there.

A lot of the bruises she'd garnered over the past few nights had already gone away, and she realized her limp had disappeared without her even noticing it. She still had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, though, and like Spike had said, her face – her whole body – was way too skinny. A massive bruise had bloomed over her injured shoulder, and it's dark color washed out her already pale skin, making her look like a corpse straight off an autopsy table.

Buffy didn't bother to wipe the glass again when it slowly began fogging over.

* * *

She had to leave the high school with her sweatshirt still damp from it's washing, but at least her jeans, torn and ragged as they were, were clean and dry. Her wet shorts were in a plastic bag swinging from her hand, along with her wet unmentionables.

She was walking across the front lawns again when a muffled yelp of surprise caught her ear, and she dropped the bag, pulling out her stake as she forced her stiff muscles into a run. She stopped near the big tree by the front entrance to the school, and snuck a look around it to see what was happening.

Spike had happened, apparently, and he was all vamped out and feeding off some poor girl – no, not just any poor girl. It was Willow!

Buffy wanted to scream. Why was the other girl here, out this late at night? Hadn't she warned her it wasn't safe? _Hadn't she?!_

Spike hadn't noticed she was here, yet.

Buffy winced, but stayed in the shadows, waiting guiltily, impatiently, for him to finish feeding…but the seconds ticked on, and he didn't stop. In fact, he didn't show any signs of stopping at all.

"Oh, no."

Buffy jumped out from behind the tree, did a flying tackle, and took Spike down with her as she pulled him off Willow. She let go of her hold on his duster as she struck the ground, rolling on her shoulder and swiftly coming back up to face the vampire as he did the same across from her. She stayed low, knees bent in a defensive crouch as she brandished her stake.

Spike stayed close to the ground too, one hand flat on the concrete as he regarded her through glowing gold eyes.

"Run along, Slayer. You've interrupted dinner."

Buffy stared at him steadily. "Not tonight. You need to back off." She glanced at Willow. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I-I think so…but yeah, he hurt me." The girl looked hesitantly at her attacker, accusation, and pain in her eyes.

"Well, he won't anymore," Buffy said promisingly, still staring down the vampire.

Spike only snorted.

"Wow, you have a really rotten attitude," Willow noted self-righteously.

"Tell me about it," Buffy agreed, and then she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now, do you mind telling me what the heck you're doing here? I told you it wasn't safe, didn't I?"

Willow stuttered. "I – well, we've been working on the library, getting it ready for the new librarian, and we left really late. I got home and almost fell asleep before I realized I'd forgotten to lock the door behind me. I can't believe I did that, I mean, I'm usually very responsible , and I called Xander because it gives me the creeps to come down here alone at night, and – "

Just then a rustling sound came from the trees behind them.

"Unh…I can't believe I just got put down by Billy Idol…"

Buffy had to fight the impulse to turn her head when she heard Xander's voice. She had the sense that he was picking himself up off the ground, though It was no wonder she hadn't known he was there. Spike had probably knocked him out and grabbed poor Willow…she cleared her throat guiltily as she continued to stare at Spike. She didn't know why she felt so betrayed. She ought to have known this was coming.

"We talked about this," she began, knowing she was probably risking her life.

She really didn't want to kill Spike. He was kind of her last tie to her parents, her life in L.A. – in a bizarre way - and to tell the truth, she really wasn't sure if she _could_.

Spike shook his head, losing his demon face, and raised up to stand on his feet. Buffy did the same, her eyes wary of any movement he made. He began pacing back in forth, his narrowed blue eyes never leaving hers, looking as if he felt caged.

"_You_ talked, _I_ listened, remember?" he snarled, jabbing a finger at her. "An' I don't recall ever tellin' you I'd come to heel like the family dog, Slayer. I'll go commit a bloody massacre if I feel like it, and don't you forget it!"

"Slayer? What the hell is - wait," Xander snapped at Buffy, "you _know_ this guy?"

Buffy looked at the boy reluctantly. "Yeah…he's my 'roommate'."

_'Well, there goes any chance of me having friends ever again', _she thought sadly. She'd just confessed to knowing a _vampire_.

Willow was standing unsteadily, a hand clamped over the wound on her throat as she looked in between the two of them, disbelieving. "Oh…he's your…_boyfriend_?"

"What? _No_!" came from both sides at once.

Buffy sent the vampire a hateful glare, and Spike growled and sneered back. They were both obviously disgusted by the idea.

"I think you guys had better leave," Buffy finally said, throwing Willow and Xander an apologetic glance. Her muscles were tensing, and she felt an unholy throw-down coming on.

"Not until you explain what the hell is going on here," Xander protested. "This guy just attacked us!"

"Xander, he bit me," Willow said shakily. "I…I think he's a real…a real _vampire_."

Xander, who seemed like the type who never really shut-up, now moved his lips helplessly.

"I think he's beyond words at the moment," Buffy commented. "Don't worry, he'll snap out of it."

Xander looked as if she had offended him in some unforgivable way. "Hey! I'm _never_ beyond words!"

"Look, I'm really sorry, but now just isn't the time," Buffy said pleadingly. "It's not safe here, and you really should get Willow to the hospital."

Xander looked like he would argue, but the sight of his friends pale and strained face apparently changed his mind. He rubbed the back of his sore skull with one hand and shuffled over to Willow, keeping his eyes on Spike the whole time. He pulled her arm over his shoulders, and with one last angry glare at Buffy and the vampire, he slowly led his friend off down the street.

Buffy watched them leave with sad regret, and then turned on Spike with a vengeance.

"You were going to kill her!"

A cunning look crossed Spike's face. "No, I wasn't," he said so calmly and reasonably that she could almost have believed him. Thankfully, she knew better.

"Might've gotten a bit carried away, but – "

"Go blow smoke up somebody else's ass, Spike! I _saw_ you!"

"Slayer," he began warningly.

"No, I can't believe I actually thought you might stop killing if I threatened you! God, you must have been laughing behind my back the entire time!"

Spike slowly grinned, looking like a cat on the prowl. "Well…yeah."

A sudden thought occurred to her and she shook her head. "You knew I was there," she accused him, unaware of Willow and Xander's dumbfounded presence as they paused in the darkness several yards away and turned back to look at them.

"You _knew_ I was there last night – that's the only reason you let that girl in the alley live!" Buffy hated the accusing, high-pitched tone of her voice. She sounded hurt, and she didn't want Spike to have the satisfaction of knowing she'd begun to have feelings for him. He'd laugh, and little wonder! It was crazy and stupid, and…and _God_, did she wish she'd never laid eyes on him!

"Come on, Slayer. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you following me? You sounded like a bloody herd of elephants."

Buffy's face burned. He'd seen her. He'd known she was watching…

"Yeah, I saw you…and you got quite the eyeful, didn't you, pet? You enjoy yourself?" he taunted.

Buffy swallowed. How could she deny it when the very sight of him did strange things to her insides?

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why not? Behaving myself doesn't hold much interest for me."

_Of course not. That's because he's an evil, soulless demon,_ Buffy told herself harshly.

She'd been incredibly dumb to think she could co-exist even somewhat peacefully with a vampire. Spike killed – that's what he did, what his sole purpose in existing was.

And the sole-purpose of hers was to kill vampires…even ones who seemed…different. Spike killed, and he deserved a staking for that alone, but there was something about him, something…rare. She didn't know what, exactly. Something she would always regret seeing destroyed.

She tried to shake herself. He was evil, and that was _it_.

Buffy knew she was supposed to live an undoubtedly short life with a sudden, brutal death at it's end. She also knew that, despite the fact Spike had to die, she didn't have the skills yet to take him in a head-on fight…or, sadly, the will to.

"You know I'm going to have to kill you now," Buffy said flatly as they slowly began to circle each other on the school lawn.

"You can try. Wouldn't advise it, seein' as you only just learned the pointy end of a stake, but…" Spike shrugged.

"I have to…but I don't wanna' do this."

"Why not? We've been heading towards this since the night we met, love."

"I know," she admitted. "It's hard, though. I thought…"

"What? That we were becoming friends? Never that. We were enemies, certainly… never friends."

"And what are we now?"

"Dunno. Something else." Spike looked oddly discomfited for a moment, and he glanced away from her, absently scuffing the toe of one boot against ground.

"We don't have to do this _now_, y'know," he said after a minute. "I know you, now. Know how you move, how you think. You don't have a chance. I'll just kill you in the end."

_Probably_.

Buffy shook her head. "I can't just let you go, Spike. How could I ever trust anything you do, anything you say?

He shrugged again. "Not askin' you to. I'm a vampire, you're a Slayer. You _can't_ trust me. You'd be fool to. I kill your kind, you slay mine - s'just the way the game is played."

The backs of Buffy's eyes began to burn, and Spike noticed the sudden wet sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh, quit pouting, baby," he drawled. "I could ride to town on that lower lip of yours."

Buffy's emotions were in a tangle. "Just…stop! Stop teasing me! Don't make this any harder on me than it already is!"

Everything about him suddenly turned hostile and cold. "Then quit tryin' to make it so bleedin personal! I don't care anything about you, and you're a fool if you think you care anything about me."

"I don't care about you!" Buffy yelled back in denial. "Do you hear me? I _don't_ care! You're a vampire! I should've staked you days ago!"

"Fine then! Prove it. Hit me." He took a threatening step forward. "Stake me." Another. "I _dare_ you to."

This was it. Buffy took a deep breath, blinking as she resolutely raised the stake in her hand. This was the part where she killed the villain of the piece, and walked away home to the cheers of …who? There _was_ no home. There were no friends, no family to cheer, to congratulate her for doing the right thing, for a job well done, no hero's welcome…

There was just Spike.

Spike who was evil, and conscienceless, and would just as soon suck her dry instead of offering comfort, or a kind word. Spike, who had tricked her, and lied to her, and…

Buffy lifted the stake high, and brought it down.

* * *

When Spike blocked it, as she'd known he would, she fisted her other hand and hit him with an uppercut, throwing his head back, and making him stumble backwards…

Spike was making a marked effort to keep his anger in check as the little Slayer kept pummeling him, but it was a near thing. When she lost her stake and found a discarded glass bottle from somewhere and threw it at him, he dodged it, and felt his temper go up another notch.

He kept waiting for his demonic visage to take over, but it didn't – or wouldn't. He found himself not really wanting to hurt her, which was absolutely ridiculous.

_'She saved your bloody life, and you know it,'_ some voice inside his head kept taunting.

The urge to annihilate it, to wipe it out completely, almost sent him into a black rage. The Slayer kept coming at him, her kicks, and punches annoying him, aggravating the beast, and he tried to tell her to back off, to stop…but it was too late. His temper had slipped the leash. His face vamped, and he smiled at her through his fangs.

Spike hit her with a kick so powerful she left her feet and flew through the air, landing hard on her back. He stalked over to her, ready to bite out her throat, but when he leaned over her to grab her by the neck, she kicked out at him, nearly catching him in the balls. That ticked him off even more, and he ended up savagely booting her in the side. He heard a couple of her doubtless already cracked ribs pop, and she cried out and rolled a few feet, onto her opposite side, clutching her abdomen.

Spike thought that was that, but the Slayer wouldn't stay down. She dragged herself up, even as she had to know she didn't stand a snowballs chance in Hell against him, and managed to kick his legs out from under him. He hit the sidewalk with enough force to jar his teeth, and she leapt astride him, wrapping her hands around his throat. He could tell she was trying to rip his head off – he could also tell that her heart wasn't in it. It was just the sign of weakness his demon had been waiting for.

His hand groped, found the glass beer bottle she'd thrown at him a minute ago, and his fingers wrapped around the broken neck of the bottle. Likewise, the Slayer had found her stake, and was getting ready to put it in his chest – but she hesitated a second too long. He grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, stilling the downward motion. In the instant that she wrenched her hand free of his hold and finally drove the stake down, he had the broken bottle between them, and the Slayer let out a loud gasp of pain before she dropped the stake and scrambled backwards off of him, her hands clapped over her mouth.

Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was on his feet again, cursing and throwing the bottle into the street, where it violently shattered. The Slayer's blood had sprayed all over him, and he could smell it. It nearly made him crazed. He turned back towards the girl, who was on her knees, obviously hurt, yet fighting not to make a sound. Her hands were still pressed tight against her lips, and blood was now pouring from between her fingers.

The sight of it made his eyes hurt. Far from gaining an immense amount of pleasure and satisfaction from her pain, the panicked look in the Slayer's eyes made something in his chest ache. He took a hasty step backwards in denial as his demon's face suddenly receded.

"You bastard! What the hell did you do to her?"

As if in a daze, Spike looked up, saw the boy he'd tangled with earlier running back up the walk toward him, his little girlfriend fast behind.

The Slayer let out a whimper, finally, and she tried to stand up, moving her hands in an attempt to try and ward the boy off.

Spike saw the wound, then, a jagged, thin slice right across her upper lip, leading down onto her lower, ending on her small chin. It was a hideous sight, and he knew the cut ran deep…

For some reason he kept wondering if she'd ever be able to smile at him again.

The Slayer looked at him, fear and hurt in her eyes, and Spike took another step back…and another, until he finally turned on his heel and quickly walked away.

Xander caught Buffy just as she wavered, her body falling toward the concrete. He almost dropped her again in surprise when he caught sight of her face.

"Let's take her inside," Willow said hurriedly, trying hard not to flinch when Buffy looked at her, her eyes going blank.

Willow ran up the steps of the school to the door, thankful now that she'd forgotten to lock it because she'd lost the keys in the dark when the vampire had attacked them, and…oh, wow, vampires were _real_! A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she caught the door as Xander rushed by with Buffy in his arms, steadying herself until it passed. When she could move again, she followed her friend down the dark, moonlit halls, her heart racing in her chest, for fear of what had happened, fear for Buffy, fear that the vampire might come back and finish them all off…

Xander carefully laid Buffy down on the cot in the nurse's office, and backed off, running his hands through his hair again and again as if he didn't know what else to do.

Willow snapped on the office light, and then got on her knees next to her, her long hair swinging over her shoulder. She stared, transfixed at the amount of blood on Buffy's clothes. "Oh, God – Xander, we have to call an ambulance, or something. She needs to get to the hospital!"

Buffy's eyes opened. "No…no…hospital." She couldn't go to a hospital, the police, the authorities…they'd take her away -

"But, Buffy – "

Buffy sat up on the cot, clutching her side. "No hospital! I'll run away if you – if you make me, I swear - !"

"Alright, okay, no hospital!" Willow finally agreed, eagerly shaking her head. "Please, just relax! I swear I won't tell anyone you're here!"

Buffy lay down on her back, drawing shallow breaths to ease the pain in her ribs. "It…hurts," she gasped, wincing at the harsh sting in her cut lips.

Willow hovered over her, her brown eyes wide and worried. "Xander is trying to find something to bind your ribs with. Don't worry, Buffy, we'll take good care of you, promise."

The room was blacking out, but Buffy didn't care. With the darkness came a temporary reprieve from the pain, from her duty….from a crushing sense of betrayal.

* * *

The crypt somehow felt empty without her.

Having yanked off his duster and the t-shirt that had the Slayer's blood all over the front of it, Spike lay on his bare back on one of the cold stone tombs, staring at the ceiling as he fought to go to sleep.

He'd felt the dawn come and go a long time ago, and still the Slayer hadn't returned…had he torn her up so badly?

He was a demon, a vampire. He'd always relished killing, and he'd been clever at it. He didn't have a soddin' conscience, yet here he was, suffering the agony of the damned knowing he'd scarred her face for life. He sat up with a snarl.

_"Bloody hell!"_

The girl was nothing but a means to an end, a plaguing fancy perhaps – that was all. What the fuck did he care if she got scarred? It wasn't the end of the world! Hell, he had one himself, was damned proud of it, in fact…

The look of betrayal in her big green eyes as she'd looked up at him, her mouth bleeding, had just about eaten him alive.

The scars he knew he'd left on the inside of her were what was bothering him the most.

Forcing aside the long absent feelings of guilt, Spike turned onto his side and threw his forearm across his eyes. He tried drawing in some air, and forcing it out in a rough sigh, but it didn't begin to ease the foreign ache in his chest. He hadn't felt this bad since Dru had left him –

Spike clenched his fist and his eyes shut with a low growl.

Enough was _enough_. The next time he saw Buffy, he was bloody well gonna' _kill_ her.

* * *

_To be Continued in Chapter Five…_

A/N: I'd like to note that a lot of the credit for this chapter - and the one previous - goes to my brother, Kevin, who came to the rescue on a lot of stuff. It wouldn't be half as bad without him! (j/k!) Love ya, bro! Anyway, sorry for the delay, and thanks for reading everyone!

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_


	5. Chapter Five

Broken Origin II: Chapter Five

* * *

**_Flashback _**

Daughnsville, Ohio, Spring, 1995

* * *

It was a small town, a very small town, with a population bordering two hundred - simple, law-abiding souls made their homes here, and had for well over a hundred years…

But it was a strange town to begin with, even before it became obvious that the tiny village held something dark and sinister at its heart. There were an unusual number of crimes committed, the truths of which never made it out into the light of day, and the people that were purportedly 'such friendly folk' were actually tainted by the evil surrounding them. From the youngest to the oldest, they often turned on each other, singling out entire families to mock their every misfortune, and point fingers at whenever things went wrong…which seemed to happen a lot.

It wasn't something the town elders would ever admit to, though.

It was here that Ruby Lauren Putnam grew up, in a family of eight, never suspecting that something was truly wrong with her hometown until she was old enough to realize that her night terrors weren't normal, that constantly being rebuffed by the other children, and gossiped about by the adults, weren't normal happenings in one's existence.

A pale, freckle-faced redhead, Ruby had always assumed that the town's dislike toward her and her family had stemmed from their being poor – and how could they deny it? It was a many an evening they could be seen in the rural areas outside town, near creeks and railroad tracks, scavenging aluminum cans, and bits out of dumped refrigerators and freezers to take into the nearest city and trade for money to buy dinner, and gas so her dad could look for work.

Ruby had always been made to feel like an outsider, and even at the high school in another town nine miles away, it was obvious she would never be allowed to fit in. It came as little surprise, when, on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, a strange man confronted her on the deserted, silent baseball field eight houses down from her own that she often used as a 'back way' home, and told her of her destiny…told her she was the Slayer.

It was then that Ruby found out just why everyone in the little town was so bitter and hostile towards their own. It seemed that Daughnsville was sort-of cursed, seeing as it sat directly over an 'off-shoot' of a Hellmouth – a real, live Hellmouth that existed in – of all places – _Cleveland_.

Hiding her true identity, and working under cover of night with her Watcher, Newton, Ruby was shocked to find whole communities of demons living right under their noses. Over the course of eight months, she'd slain demons, and vampires, including one who turned out to be the sour old biddy that had yelled at Ruby from behind her heavy curtains to stay out of her yard, and had been doing so since before Ruby could remember. She'd always known there was something overly creepy about the old hag. She'd actually become friendly with a number of the demons, the ones not given to flesh-eating, murder, and human sacrifice, anyway.

While she was very successful at being the Slayer, Ruby's schoolwork suffered for it. She'd never been the most intellectual type, having driven her fourth grade Math teacher to near physical abuse because she just couldn't be taught multiplication and division easily enough. At Newton's insistence, her bewildered, over-stressed parents had allowed him to take her out of school, and teach her daily at the home he'd procured near the town's one and only Marathon gas station. The old house had long sat vacant before the near elderly Watcher had bought it, making it fodder for the children's imagination – and the teenager's vandalism. Everyone thought of the olive green, vine-covered clapboard house as being haunted, and not many ever went near it, so it fit their purposes wonderfully…

In early April of 1996, a pair of vampires had shown up in Daughnsville, and Ruby knew just by sight that they were not the usual 'good-ol-boy', 'farmer-vamp' types that ran through these parts. For one thing, she could _feel_ that they were old – decades, if not _centuries_, old – and most of the vamps she'd spotted around had been relatively young, which in turn had made them a lot easier to kill. For another thing, _no one_ in Daughnsville – or even Lima, a large city about twelve miles away – wore as much leather as _these_ two did.

Knowing she was up against something she wasn't sure even _she_ could handle, Ruby had gone straight to her Watcher as soon as she'd caught the pair coming in from the direction of the seldom-used train tracks that ran the length of the tiny town.

The look on Newton's wrinkled face as she'd described the two vampires had sent him scrambling for the old-fashioned telephone hanging on the cracked plaster wall of his urine-yellow kitchen. His reaction had scared her, because she'd never seen the old Watcher move any faster than he absolutely had to…

Within three nights, the town's already small population was decimated - but still her Watcher waited, refusing to allow Ruby to take action, making her wait to confront the demons.

Heart-sick and frustrated, Ruby talked her parents and her uncle and his family, along with any other soul who would listen – which wasn't many – into leaving town. "Just for a few days," she'd begged, having to break her vow of silence and admit and explain her calling to get them to take the children to safety. Her parents had protested, but left in the end, in their ancient, beat-up, faded red Hornet, taking all her scared witless younger siblings with them.

The two vampires had taken up temporary residence in the biggest, nicest house in town – a renovated, three-story white Victorian that was located right across from Ruby's uncle's – now thankfully _empty_ – house.

On the morning after the fourth night, Ruby stood in the center of the elementary school's play ground and cried. Several of the younger children who her kid brothers and sisters had 'tried' to play with, and whose parents had refused to listen to her, had been killed, drained and posed into macabre, 'playful' positions on the merry-go-round, swings, monkey-bars, and slide.

Ruby had decided then and there that enough was enough…

…and that was exactly how she'd ended up dead.

* * *

Ruby stood, straddle-legged before the vampire called Angelus, pin-pricks of fear rushing up and down her spine as she sensed the other female vampiress, Drusilla, not far away.

She decided she didn't want to know what the insane bitch of the Underworld was up to. Now, staring down the dark-haired, dark-eyed, angelic-looking demon was all she was worried about. According to Newton, before he'd given her up for dead, and high-tailed it out of town – or tried to, anyway – Angelus was well over two centuries old, and had a long history of torturing his victims before offering them incredibly bloody and painful deaths.

Standing in the narrow street between her uncle's home and the town's hundred year old Methodist church, with it's hundred foot belfry and rickety, sharp spire, Ruby watched as the moon slowly reached it's zenith in the sky over Angelus's wickedly handsome, smirking countenance.

The day had begun with Ruby coming out of her Watcher's home and discovering the slain children in the playground just down the block. A sense of rage had consumed her after her initial shock, and she'd gone a little crazy. Despite Newton's protests that she wait for the special back-up team the council was sending from London, she'd gone straight for the ancient Victorian, and found the vampires had all but sealed themselves in.

She'd taken direct advantage of that fact with a vengeful kind of glee.

Ruby had run down to the end of the little town, and 'appropriated' several gallons of gasoline from the now empty station. She'd then liberally laced the ground floor and wraparound porches with their gingerbread woodworking with the volatile stuff, stood back, wiped the sweat from her forehead, smiled…and flicked a lit match.

The Victorian had gone up like dry tinder wood, and Ruby had stood in the street with her Watcher and waited expectantly for the angry howls and screams from the beasts inside – but none had sounded, and she'd known that she'd been tricked. The vampires had taken refuge someplace else before dawn.

Despite the fact that the town was very small, and the vampires had to have secreted themselves away within one of the homes, or even the empty school, short of setting fire to every standing building in town, some of which were still stubbornly occupied, Ruby could do nothing. She knew that if she were stupid enough to intrude on their 'resting' place, she'd immediately be slaughtered. Contrary to common belief, she'd learned, vampires didn't necessarily need to sleep during the day.

Convinced that her best chance would be to take them out in the open, Ruby had waited for the sun to set, her youthful sense of hope and the need live refusing to give into the certainty that her hours left on this earth were numbered…

Ruby had to fight the urge to jump when a sudden, deafening, monotonous ringing began in the belfry above high above their heads. A loud, hysterical sounding woman's laugh came down through the cacophony, and she watched warily as Angelus smiled and shook his head, pressing his fingertips together at his lean waist as he began talking very slow, steady steps toward her down the street.

"You'll have to excuse Dru," the vampire said in an almost friendly way as he approached, the solid sounds the heels of his ungodly expensive Gucci boots made as they struck the dry pavement echoing hollowly against the empty buildings in between the peals of sound from the bell. "She likes the sound of church bells ringing – finds it soothing, I suppose.

'_Soothing_?' the Slayer thought in disbelief, listening to the high-pitched laughter coming from the old church. God above, but the woman was acting like a raving loon, and her companion thought she was being _soothed_?

Dooong…dooong…dooong… 

It sounded like a lonely death knell to Ruby.

"So…you're the Slayer." The vampire paused a good ten feet from her, and looked her up and down with his hooded devil's eyes, his teeth flashing white in his pale face. "Never expected to come across one of you in hick town like this," he drawled, sending a disparaging glance around before his gaze came back unexpectedly to settle right on her.

"But, it's a nice surprise, I have to admit. Dru and me, we've been on the move for a while now. There hasn't been much opportunity to…put down roots, so to speak. When she had one of her visions, and insisted on coming here, I thought she was -" the vampire gave a charming laugh " – well, I thought she was acting _crazy_." He took another step forward, dropping his hands as his movements became much more predatory. "But now I can why she was drawn here. This place is nearly pure evil…and you being here, trying to protect it…? That's just the cherry on top, isn't it?"

Ruby swallowed, but stood her ground, the broadsword and crossbow in her hands at the ready.

"It's just too bad that this place is so small. Another few nights, and this place'll be…well, dead," Angelus chuckled, and his brows lifted when Ruby suddenly aimed the crossbow at him, and fired. He caught the wooden bolt in his hand, just before it reached his heart, and he broke it with that same hand, growling deep in his chest before flinging the two pieces to the ground.

Ruby looked up, barely keeping from showing a reaction when she saw that the vampire's face had morphed into it's true visage.

"So, you're going to put up a fight, girl?" the vampire snarled, hungrily baring its jagged fangs. "To tell the truth, I was so hoping you would…I've never had a Slayer."

Ruby calmly reloaded the crossbow, keeping her eyes locked with the hellfire glow of the vampires'. She was bringing it up to take aim again when the vampire attacked. She felt her finger jerk hard on the trigger – in slow motion, she watched the vampire flying at her, saw the bolt leave the bow, followed it as if she could somehow steer it's path, felt her heart stop for a beat when the point missed it's target as the vampire turned in mid-air to avoid it…

Time seemed to speed up after that. The vampire hit her so hard she crashed to the ground, dropping the bow, and she felt her grip loosen on her sword. There was a metallic grinding as the heavy weapon slid from her gloved grasp across the cold, smooth gray pavement of the road. For some reason, Ruby flashed back to when she four, and her much older sister, Lacey, had warned her never to run across the road because she could fall and get hit by a car before she could get back up…maybe it was the road rash that brought that childhood incident to mind. As she hit the road, she skidded, and the friction tore open the frayed elbows of her blue denim jacket, and shredded the skin there, and on her forearms. The sting was nothing short of agonizing, and brought tears to her blue-gray eyes, but she couldn't concentrate on the pain because the vampire was on top of her, holding her down with one hand slowly crushing her throat, the other tangling almost obscenely in her long red hair.

Ruby drew in a hoarse, gasping breath when the vampire finally let go of her throat, and he dragged her up onto her knees before him, still holding her by her hair. She fisted her hands and swung at him, but he batted them away with little effort.

"Hey, Slayer," he said, shaking her to get her attention. She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, her anger and hate sharp enough to gut him.

Angelus grinned, and bent down into her face. "I just wanted you to know, you'll be my first," he said in a whisper, "so just be gentle with me, darlin', and I promise I'll try to make it good for you, too." He pulled her up and forced a heated kiss on her lips before he flung her away.

Ruby forced herself up as soon as she hit the ground. She knew she had to move if she wanted to live. She had to find the sword, _where was the fucking sword –_

A sudden, fiery, piercing pain jabbed through her abdomen, and Ruby looked down at herself, and saw the blade of her own blooded sword protruding sickly from the front of her faded black t-shirt.

"Oh, sorry…were you looking for this?" she heard the vampire ask in a helpful voice.

With a fierce yank, the sword was slowly dragged from her body, and she couldn't hold back a short scream as she felt the blade saw against her rib and her backbone as it exited. She hit the ground, shaking in paroxysms of pain as she struggled to move and found that she couldn't.

The vampire Angelus stood over her as she squinted upwards at the starry sky through a haze of red, and she again remembered a happier time when she was very small, and it was Halloween, and her mom was walking her house to house in her stroller while she stared in awe at the stars in the black sky overhead.

Was this really it? The end? The far from mediocre end to her mediocre life? So soon? Was it fitting? Did she deserve it for being such a mediocre Slayer…?

A blur of black blotted out her vision, and Ruby felt her head being pushed to one side, her hair being dragged away from her face, heard rather than felt the fangs as they savagely pierced the tenderness of her throat…

She felt her heart raging against the grip of death when the vampire finally lifted it's head, but it had very little blood left with which to fight. She felt lightheaded, nauseous, as she blankly stared at the vampire as it rose to it's feet once again. She watched with eyes that she had to fight to keep open as the deranged vampiress Drusilla appeared in the open door of the old church, and acted on pure instinct as Angelus turned his back to approach his companion.

Moving seemed the hardest thing she'd ever tried to do. It felt as if it took hours to reach the discarded crossbow, and even longer to drag it towards her across the road with her bloodied fingertips. She'd never know how she managed to find a bolt and get the thing loaded, but she did. She rolled onto her stomach, ignoring the gutted feeling taking her over, and pushed up onto her raw elbows, taking aim at the vampire standing with it's back to her. Her sight wavered, until it looked like she was seeing everything through a heat wave, and she struggled to keep her hands in position.

Angelus suddenly snarled, whirling, the expression on his face first one of suspicion, and then surprise as he saw the crossbow leveled on him, Ruby's pale, but smirking face just above it. Her finger twitched on the trigger, and there was a sharp twang as the bolt released. She collapsed, semi-conscious, to the pavement, but not before seeing – to her extreme dismay – the vampire duck, and the bolt strike the dark vampiress in the heart.

It wasn't that she was unhappy to see the female crumble to dust. It was just that she knew that since she'd been aiming for Angelus's heart, and had hit the much shorter Drusilla's instead when he'd moved, her stupid aim had been off in the first place…

She also knew that, where she may have had half-a-chance at living through this night with just Drusilla to deal with, Angelus wasn't going to make her death a pleasant one.

Unfortunately for her, while her aim may have been off, her instincts were not.

Despite her best attempts to go out with some kind of honor, Ruby Lauren Putnam died screaming.

**_End Flashback _**

* * *

**Present - **Sunnydale, Ca. July, 1996 

Almost two weeks after his fight with the Slayer, Spike found himself standing out in front of the high school again, wondering if he might catch a glimpse of her, since this was the last place he'd seen her. He'd seen hide nor hair of her since that night, and it made him wonder if she was even still alive.

Despite his promise to himself that he'd drink her dry as a salt flat the moment he saw her again, he kept wondering where she was, what was wrong with her, and if he'd been the cause of it.

Spike cursed aloud, and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk before running his fingers through his hair and pressing the heel of his hands into his temples. Of course he'd been the cause of it! Jesus, the Slayer was driving him mad, madder than Dru had ever driven him, and that was saying something. He had to find her, kill her, and get her out of his fucking mind for good –

A muffled male scream suddenly echoed across the campus, and Spike's head shot up, turning in the direction of the sound. Curious, and grateful for any distraction at the moment, he set off across the lawns, his ears perked for any more sounds.

Spike saw an open window into one of the classrooms, and just as he was about to approach it, he saw a slight female shape crawl out of it. For a second he almost smiled, thinking he had a tasty bit of helpless prey on his very willing hands, but the closer he got to the female, the more he noticed her lack of certain prey-worthy things, like body heat…and a heartbeat.

The minute the girl touched ground and turned to face him, he groaned.

Of all the bloody things he could have run into tonight…

Spike shook his head as the female gasped at the sight of him, and then sneered, putting her hands on her shapely hips as she hooked him with a derisive gaze.

"Well, now, isn't this just the dog's balls? Long time, no see, Granny," Spike jabbed on a drawn-out sigh.

"How many times do I have to remind you, _William_, it's 'Darla'. That twit Drusilla got away with calling me grandmother only when Angelus was around, and even then you know how much I hated it, so don't call me that again unless you want to keep your _dick_."

Spike whistled and took a step back, tucking a thumb in his belt and letting the fingers of his hand fall protectively over the worn fly of his jeans. "Easy goes it, pet – don't get your frillies in a twist – course, we both know that would never happen 'cause you don't _wear_ frillies – " Spike caught his tongue between his teeth and took a hasty step back, lifting his eyebrows suggestively as his great-grandsire took a swing at him. He chuckled long and low as she growled at him.

"What are you doing here?" Darla asked angrily, swinging her short blond hair out of her heart-shaped face.

Spike shrugged. "Out for a bite." He wondered briefly why she wasn't asking him about Dru.

"I mean, what are you doing here, in Sunnydale?" Darla looked over his shoulder, and frowned.

Spike smiled. "M'on vacation – what do you think?"

"I think you're here to cause trouble…as usual," a familiar, hated voice drawled.

Spike spun around, destroying his picture of deceptive laziness. A snarl crept across his lips as he spotted his most hated enemy standing a few yards away from him.

"_Angel_."

"Well, if it isn't Captain Forehead."

The dark vampire stepped forward, a slight smirk of recognition on his face. "Spike," he nodded.

"Angel?" Darla looked in between the two of them. "Did you know Spike was here?"

"Not until just now," Angel said, sidling past the blonde vamp to stand beside her. He casually lifted a hand to run his be-ringed fingers through her hair, and Darla smacked his hand away. He growled at her but she didn't look concerned, just annoyed.

"Don't touch my hair right now – I finally got it just the way I wanted it," she complained, tucking a gold strand behind her ear.

Spike laughed. "Hoo, haven't seen her in a century and she's _still_ got your raisins in quite the choke hold, don't she?" he crowed at Angelus.

"By the way," Spike paused, taking a pointed look around, "where the hell's Dru?"

Angel feigned a sad look, and reached over to sling an arm around Spike's shoulder. Well, you see, Wills…I don't know just how to tell you this, but…

Spike shrugged him off, his fury boiling to the surface. "What the bloody hell did you do to her?" he snarled, his voice rough and on edge.

"Why she's gone, William," Angel told him with mock gentleness.

"What do mean, 'gone'?" Spike asked, on the verge of turning violent.

"He means she's dust, you waste of space," Darla snapped dismissively. "If you ask me, good riddance."

Spike's temper snapped, and he growled, flinging himself at the female with his hands out, curling them around her throat as he slammed her up against the building.

"I'll tear your fucking head off if you say one more bad word about her," Spike threatened, his fangs snapping in her face. "You weren't fit to lick my girl's boot's clean."

"The Master will have your head off your shoulders if you kill me," Darla raged, struggling helplessly. Normally, since she was far older, and more powerful, she might have been able to push him off her – but Spike's rage was a remarkable sight this night, and she couldn't force him away.

"Oh, will he, now?" Spike asked, unconcerned, his fangs still bared. He reached over almost casually to snap a branch of one of the trees nearby, and thrust the sharp green wood hard against her chest, tearing the delicate fabric of her sweater, and drawing blood.

"Why don't we just see what the wrinkly old bastard'll do if I off you?"

Spike drew the makeshift stake back and shoved it into Darla's chest, splintering the end on her breastbone. The vampiress gave an enraged shriek of pain, and Spike's snarl widened.

"Oops, I'm sorry," he apologized congenially as he yanked the stake back out. "Missed, didn't I? Shall we try again?"

"Who cares what the wrinkly old bastard will do," Angel suddenly drawled in Spike's ear. "If I were you, William, I'd be worrying what _I'm_ about to do if you don't let her go."

Spike bit his tongue, savoring the bitter taste of his blood before he roared and pushed back off Darla, his grief bringing him to his knees in the grass. He sat there, head cradled in his hands for a long time, before he could look up. He sniffed, his blue eyes reddened and wet as he stared at his rival.

"What happened?" he asked in a raw voice. "Tell me what…what happened to her."

For a moment, Angel's face lost its smirk, and he actually looked saddened by the loss of his childe.

"It was in Ohio, a few months past. Dru insisted on stopping in this small town that absolutely reeked of a Hellmouth. We came across a Slayer there."

Spike blinked, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. "A…Slayer?" He sniffed again, and swiped the back of his hand over his face. "A Slayer killed her?"

"Yeah. Crossbow bolt. It was quick."

Suddenly the idea of just killing Buffy Summers when he came across her again just didn't seem like enough.

Spike felt his rage building as he sat there, staring, barely listening as Angel rambled on.

"Almost didn't make it out of the cursed place myself. The fucking townspeople - I had no idea there were that many of the cowards left. I killed the Slayer, and it was like I'd unleashed the hounds of hell. Stinking humans were everywhere." He shook his head. "It was over before I could do anything. I barely got out of there with my ass intact as it was."

Spike slowly rose to his feet, his acute sense of loss making him tremble. "You left her to die."

Angel shook his head again. "William – "

"You left her to die!" Spike tackled him around the waist, sending them both crashing to the ground. They tussled a bit, and then Angelus shoved him off with a blow to his jaw that left a bloody streak from one of his rings.

Spike stood up, tears still in his eyes. "I _knew_ you wouldn't take care of her! I _knew_ – " he stopped, and started pacing, back and forth, feeling like he was losing it. He stopped and spun on Angel, pointing at him accusingly. "I knew I should have fought for her! She didn't know what the bloody hell she was doing when she left with you! I'd have died before I let anything happen to her, you sodding sonofabitch, and she knew it! I took care of her, bloody _bled_ for her for over a century, and you came back, playin' all your dirty lil' games, and stole her away from me! _You_ went and got her killed!"

Angel lunged up from the ground, in full demon face, and stood, shoulders hunched as if ready to attack. "I suggest that you calm yourself, Will, before I feel obliged to do it for you."

"Don't feel so bad, boy…I got a bit of your own back for you. I crucified her."

Red-eyed, Spike stared at him.

"Used one of your old tricks with the railroad spikes - nailed the bitch, literally." Angel smiled diabolically. "It was pretty satisfying, although she still died far too quickly for it to be too much fun."

Grinding the bones in his jaw together in an effort to stave off the sobs he felt building in his chest, Spike blinked fiercely, glared at the vampires who'd made the first half of his un-life worse then Hell, and turned around and walked away. He didn't bother saying anything else before he left – Angel knew this wasn't the last he'd be seein' of him…

_Not by a fucking bloody long shot._

* * *

Spike was mightily tempted to go back home and get piss drunk, but he needed to keep his wits about him with Angel in town.

In hopes of distracting himself, he made a violent mess of his kill that night, the likes of which he hadn't done in decades, but the slick, sticky blood, hot on his skin and in his throat, did nothing to ease the painful roil of emotions in his chest. He didn't even bother to properly dispose of the corpse after he fed, which was just asking for trouble, but he just didn't fucking care anymore.

It was early still, and he entertained the thought of just going back to the crypt, but he'd cooled down a bit, and his thought process was more clear now. He decided it'd probably be a good idea to spy on Angel and see what the old prick was up to.

As he walked back to the school to pick up Darla and Angel's scents, he caught himself wondering again if Angel really had done anything to try and save Dru.

_Not likely,_ he thought bitterly.

Spike caught Angel's scent and followed their trail, his thoughts chaotic and disjointed.

It was almost ironic. The death of a Slayer had first lured Dru into his arms, made her his lover…and the death of a Slayer had taken her permanently from him.

* * *

Darla was four centuries old, a vampire…but still very much a woman. She was still shrieking mad when she walked into the Master's lair well before dawn, clutching her wounded chest and a fistful of gore-ridden and torn cashmere sweater.

"Who has mistreated my favored daughter so?"

Darla couldn't help it – she jumped. Even after centuries of being around her sire, the sound of his deceptively lyrical voice still made her skin crawl.

"It was Spike, Master," she growled furiously, stamping across the packed dirt and stone floor of the desecrated and sunken church they resided in. Not that they had much of a choice, or rather, the Master didn't. He'd been inside the old church when an earthquake had struck many decades before, and a holy, magical barrier of sorts had trapped him inside ever since.

"Spike?" the Master asked, his tone only mildly curious.

"William, Master. You've met him only once before, in Spain. He's of Drusilla's get," Darla spat in disgust.

"Ah, William. I remember now. Yes, he was even more disrespectful than Angel, as I recall…but the _bulls_…hmm. I've seen very few as bloodthirsty and vicious since." The Master sighed in blissful memory, his eyes glazing over for a moment before his attention abruptly snapped back to the present. "You say he is here?"

"Yes, Master. He tried to stake me, the ungrateful _shit_." Darla violently tugged off her ruined school-girl sweater, and flung it to the dirt floor, uncaring of those who saw her nakedness. "He'd have been dust many times over had I not coaxed Angelus to spare him."

She didn't add it had been just because Drusilla had been attached to him. He'd always kept the idiot girl occupied, and most importantly, away from her own Angelus.

Darla made a face as she tugged on another white, button down shirt. The ploy had worked…most of the time anyway.

"Not to worry, my dear. I think a stake will find him one day soon," the Master soothed, an unnatural light in his reddened eyes. "Perhaps this new Slayer – "

A new voice spoke from behind Darla.

"A staking is too easy for him. I vote we…construct our own…entertainment."

"Angelus?" The Master gasped, standing from his chair. "Can it be that you have finally returned to us?"

Darla smiled. "He saved me, Master."

The Master looked at Angelus. "It seems I have cause to be grateful to you, then."

Angel smirked.

"It seems as if it's been centuries since I last saw you. Tell me…where have you been?"

"In Hell," Angel responded grimly. "The Gypsies cursed me…with a soul."

"Most unfortunate…however, I once told you that your persistence and boldness would get you into deep trouble. I hope you have learned your lesson, boy," the Master told Angelus with no little smug satisfaction.

Angel said nothing, his dark eyes burning with suppressed rage.

"Well, now that you're here, you may as well make yourself useful," the Master said on a drawn out sigh.

"Yeah, useful." Angel's jaw tightened. "Darla hinted you were having some…problems with a Slayer."

"It is settled then," the Master said with approval, lowering himself back into his chair once again. "You shall rid us of the Slayer. I shall leave the method of her destruction solely up to you, Angelus. Torture _is_ your element, after all."

* * *

Though Spike stood whole yards away from the tunnel entrance into the Master's lair, he heard everything.

So, that was what the wankers were up to.

They were gonna' kill the Slayer. Or at least, _Angelus_ was.

"Blighter," Spike grumbled under his breath.

The bastard was horning in on his soon-to-be stolen territory – _again_. He was beginning to feel cursed. Who was Angelus to think that he could just waltz his poncey ass into Spike's town and steal his thunder? Just like he'd already stolen his girl, his pride, even his sodding _reputation_?! _He_ was the one famous for killin' Slayers, not that buggering Angelus! And that affectation of his with the railroad spikes had all but died out long ago, but it was _his_ fucking calling card, sod it all! He'd had to work hard for that shit! He wasn't called William the Bloody for nothing! And now he wanted his Slayer, too?! He'd invested a world of time and a wealth of patience he didn't bloody possess trainin' the bitch! Buffy was _his_, damn it!

The urge to barge in there and tear off Angel's head and shove it permanently up his ass was unnaturally strong. For long minutes he stood in the black, dripping sewer, clenching and unclenching his hands, practically gnashing his teeth as his demon visage sprang up. He had to control the low growl he was unconsciously emitting from the depths of his throat, lest he be heard.

Spike jerked his chin back when he caught the thick scent of fresh blood in the air, and he heard Angel's dark laughter echo at him from inside the Master's lair. To him it sounded mocking, a challenge…and he was more than willing to take it up.

Muscles still rock hard and tense from his building rage, Spike forced himself to back away, his glowing, yellow-gold eyes still trained with unrelenting ferocity on the entrance to the lair.

"Yeah, you just enjoy yourself, mate," he whispered to the air as he reluctantly withdrew.

"Enjoy yourself while you still can, 'cause I promise you…this isn't over until one of us is a pile of dust."

* * *

Continued in Chapter Six…

(A/N: Sorry about the wait, but here are a couple of chapters. I totally made up the previous Slayer pre-Buffy in this chapter, so please, please, _please_ don't point the Mary-Sue finger at me. She's _not_ intended to be that way. Thanks for reading and reviewing!)

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_


	6. Chapter Six

* * *

Broken Origin II: Chapter Six

* * *

When Buffy woke up in the hospital, her first instinct was to run. Despite the fact that the police were no doubt after her, and had been for weeks, she and hospitals just didn't get along – ever. In fact, they didn't just not get along, they absolutely _terrified_ her. 

_'Spike?'_

Where was he? Did it matter? There'd be no comfort from that corner. He didn't care that she'd been scared of the dark – he wouldn't care if he knew she was scared of hospitals, either…

_'Avalanche! Help me! Help Me…!' _

"Celia," was the first word out her dry throat when she opened her eyes to the sienna orange walls, and the strong odor of disinfectant.

_'You saved me, Power Girl! Thank you!' _

'Poor Celia'… 

God, she didn't want to be here, she wanted out. People _died_ in hospitals – !

"It's going to be the Devil's work to train this girl, I hope you are aware. God only knows what kind of trauma she's suffered through…"

Blinking, Buffy stared at the ceiling. Great. Someone was in the room with her, being all chatty on a cell phone. Rude much.

_'Here it comes'_ , she thought. _'This is the part where this police/security guy who's been waiting for me to wake up goes out and calls in his buddies, and they cart me off to jail for the 'murder' of my parents…"_

Buffy gave a small moan of misery.

"Buffy? M-miss Summers? Are you awake?"

Wait. Did police/security people have British accents? In southern California?

"Miss Summers? Are you in pain? Shall I…shall I ring the nurse?"

Buffy groaned. Was it too late to pretend she was unconscious again?

"Miss Summers - ?"

Buffy answered, but didn't bother to open her eyes. "I'm fine," she bit out. "You can leave now."

"Mr. Travers? Er, yes, she's conscious, now, I must go. Yes…yes. I understand. Yes, quite. Goodbye…"

Buffy listened to the man's clumsy, nearly inept attempts to end the call, almost smiling as he cursed under his breath as he noisily – and _repeatedly_ – hit the wrong buttons.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to use cell phones in hospitals?" Buffy asked bitchily when he was done, still refusing to open her eyes. The longer she kept them closed, the longer she had until facing the bleak reality of her world again. From the sound of things, the Watcher's council had finally caught up to her.

Things were about to become even bleaker, she suspected.

"I don't need another Watcher, if that's what you're here for," she said flatly. "You guys seem to come with even shorter expiration dates than us Slayer's. No offense."

"None taken, I assure you."

"Good. Great. So leave already, alright?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Summers."

"Will you stop calling me that? It's Buffy. B-u-f-f-y. And you _can_ do it. It's simple. See the door? Walk through it and keep going." She clenched her fists under the thin sheets. She hoped he'd listen to her, because she was getting angrier by the minute. This council obviously thought she belonged to them, like some kind of possession. Well, she didn't belong to anybody but herself!

"Buffy, my name is Rupert Giles. As you have no doubt already surmised, I am here to act as your new watcher, and continue your training – "

"Took you guys long enough to find me," Buffy snapped, turning her head, and opening her eyes to glare at the man standing over her. She took in the surprising youth of his appearance, his tweed suit and wire-frame glasses, and shook her head. He looked to be around her dad's age; almost a baby compared to Merrick…and a hell of a lot better looking at that.

The watcher looked embarrassed. "Yes, well, as to that – "

"Do you know what happened to my parents?" she asked quietly.

"Yes." He looked away.

"Do you know what happened to me?"

"Buffy, I know that things have been…difficult for you of late, but you must understand that – "

Buffy pushed herself up into a sitting position, surprised at how good she felt, at how much strength she could feel coursing through her. She hadn't felt this powerful since before the vampires had kidnapped her.

Speaking of…

"No." She shook her head, looking at the watcher through haunted eyes.

"You don't know what I've been through. You don't know what happened to me, and I don't have to understand anything. Go back to England, and tell that Travers guy, or whoever it is in charge, that I'll stay here and do my 'job' for as long as I can. But I don't want anything to do with you or the council. I'm sick of being manipulated, and told what to do."

Giles sighed, swiping off his glasses to scrub at the lenses with a handkerchief from his trouser pocket.

"It's all very well that you should feel this way, Buffy, angry and frustrated because you did not choose this for your life. But you should remember, you are the Chosen. You are the light in the darkness that keeps the monsters at bay."

"You're right," Buffy replied harshly. "I am the Chosen. But you're not. What makes you think you can teach me anything?"

Giles drew himself up, looking both insulted and suddenly unsure of himself, as if he hadn't expected her to react in quite this manner. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a tentative knock on the cracked door.

Buffy's head turned, and she saw Xander and Willow peeking around the door at them. She lifted a hand to give them a hesitant wave. "Hey."

That was all it took for Willow to come rushing in, her hands twisting around the rainbow handles of a small blue backpack. She looked guilty and stressed, dark circles rimming her soft brown eyes as she came up to the bed.

"Buffy, I know I promised not to call anyone, but you stopped breathing and we freaked out – " Willow started to ramble.

"It's okay, Willow. I shouldn't have put you under that kind of stress, anyway. You didn't know who I was. But, I guess you do, now, huh?"

"I know, I just feel really bad, I mean, I _promised_ – "

"Don't worry about it. You saved my life. You did what you had to do, and I respect that."

Willow looked relieved. "Really? Thanks."

Xander stepped up to the bed, too, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.

"Er…hey, Buff. Glad to see you're finally awake." He awkwardly put the flowers on the rolling tray beside her bed.

Buffy gave him a small smile in return, still not quite understanding what was going on. She'd almost gotten these kids killed, and they were bringing her flowers, like she was important to them, or something.

"Xander and Willow have been visiting you daily since you were brought in, Buffy," Giles told her gently.

Buffy frowned. "Sounds like you guys have gotten to know eachother."

"Yeah, it's really weird," Willow agreed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "It turns out Mr. Giles is your Watcher, _and_ the new librarian at the high school. I would say I was expecting a woman, but, uh, I guess that could be kind of sexist or something, huh?"

Buffy gave her a semi-amused look. "Or something. How long have I been here, anyway?"

"Two weeks."

"I've been unconscious for two weeks?" Buffy's jaw dropped.

"Oh, God, Spike - !" Spike was on the loose, and killing too, no doubt!

Xander's face took on a grim look. "We haven't seen him."

"You weren't out looking for him - ?!" Buffy asked, horrified.

"Oh, no! No way!" Willow interjected. "We just haven't seen him around, is all. Maybe he left town," she added hopefully.

Surges of hope and despair filled Buffy. "Maybe," she agreed weakly, settling back against her pillows with a thump. Memories came rushing back, and she lifted a hand to touch the scar on her lips and chin. It had healed completely already, and it wasn't even sensitive to the touch. She ran a finger over the thin ridge, trying not to think of how ugly it must look.

How would she be able to face Spike again like this? Knowing he'd probably mock her about having left his mark on her where everyone could see? Knowing he'd made her vulnerable enough to him to be able to trick her, knowing he'd made her care about him…?

Buffy's chest actually hurt when she recalled his face and it had nothing to do with any lingering pain from her broken ribs. God, why did she even care what he'd think? Why should she care? Why did she care?

Worst of all, why in the hell did she want to see him again so badly?

It was sick. _She_ was sick –

"What kind of a name is Spike, anyway?" Xander was saying snippily.

"Ah…now that's a story," Buffy murmured quietly.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked up at Giles to see him watching her with a closed expression.

"I have some business to attend elsewhere."

"Council business?" she asked bitterly.

Giles didn't answer, and she looked away, suddenly ashamed of herself. The watcher cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, in the meantime, Buffy, I think someone should stay with you – "

"Oh, I'll stay!" Willow immediately chirped, looking eager to make up for her broken promise.

"Yeah, me and Will can stay with her," Xander agreed.

Willow instantly looked suspicious. "Xander, you _hate_ hospitals. You hate _waiting_ in hospitals. You hate waiting, period!"

"I don't mind," Xander sputtered, looking abashed.

Willow rolled her eyes at Buffy. "He always complains about being bored. We were seven, and I had to have my appendix taken out, and all he could do was bounce on the end of my bed and whine about having nothing to do – "

"Hey, hey! I wasn't bored, I was _concerned_!"

"Oh, yeah, that's why the nurse yelled at you for trying to make a rope out of my sheets so you could escape out the window while our parents went to the cafeteria because you were scared appendicitis was 'catching'," Willow said blandly.

"Listen, you guys really don't hafta hang out," Buffy said hastily, sitting up in her bed. "I'm really feeling fine. In fact, I was just thinking of leaving – "

Giles reached out a hand to stop her. "I know very well that you are perfectly capable of leaving the hospital today, Miss Summers, but until the council and I can get things completely straightened out with the local authorities, I'm afraid it's best if just stay where you are. It's the safest place for you just now. In a day or two I will allow you to be released – under my care, of course."

Grumbling, Buffy sat back against the pillows. "Fine, but can we get somebody in here to take out this I.V.? It itches," she complained, scratching gingerly at the tape on the back of her hand. "And I'm hungry, too."

Mr. Giles looked bemused by her reaction to his words, as if he'd thought she might rebel and run off.

"Yes, I will go to the nurses station and ask them to inform the doctor that you are awake, and see about ordering you a meal. You just, erm…stay here, won't you? With, um…with Willow and Xander, yes?"

Buffy shrugged, still looking faintly mutinous, the thin scar on her lips exaggerating her sullenness. "Yeah, whatever."

Giles looked to Willow. "I take it I won't need to fear your discretion in this matter?"

"Huh?" Xander just looked confused.

"We won't tell anyone anything, Giles. I mean it this time. We'll wait here until you get back," Willow told the new librarian cheerily. "We'll find something to keep Buffy occupied."

"Yeah, we can all just sit around and play 'Where's Waldo' with Buffy's bruises – ooh, and then Connect-the-dots."

Giles shook his head and walked out the door.

Buffy eyed Xander strangely.

"I fear you."

Embarrassed, the boy cleared his throat.

"Sometimes I fear myself."

Buffy shocked them both by smiling hugely. The simple, although almost unwilling act, went a long way towards transforming her thin, pale face.

"God, you should smile more often," Xander said in an awe-filled voice, before he shook himself. "Or, on the other hand, maybe you shouldn't." He pulled his hand out of his pocket in a hurry, and dropped his eyes to the linoleum.

Willow rolled her eyes.

* * *

Outside in the corridor, Rupert Giles paused and ran a shaking hand over his brow. He pulled off his glasses and pressed his fingertips to his eyes. 

It had shaken him badly to see the young girl in there wake up so disillusioned with herself, and with life in general. The pain of her experiences had been there, forever etched into her green eyes for all to see, if they cared to look.

Giles heard a quiet cough, and looked up to see that he was blocking the way of the dinner cart coming through with the patient's evening meals. He excused himself, and moved to the side, pushing his glasses back on.

As he walked down the corridors to find the nurse's station, and then the elevators, Giles was only mildly surprised to feel his anger rising at the injustices the young Slayer had had to endure because of her title. A week ago, when he'd first arrived in Sunnydale, he'd looked on his new responsibilities with the apathy that twenty years of training had given him. Then his charge had woken up, and the feelings that had rushed through him as he'd gazed down at her could only be labeled as fatherly. He'd wanted to protect her, to gain justice for the wrongs done to her, to help her re-learn that not everyone was out to get at her…it would be difficult, considering the council had doubts about her already, and considered her very expendable if she couldn't perform her duties.

Willow and Xander would help him in that, he was certain.

Having been there when Buffy fought Spike, the cat had already been out of the bag, so to speak, and he'd seen no purpose in lying to what looked to be two very perceptive youths. He'd answered their questions about Buffy and what it meant to be the Chosen one until he'd wanted to snap in impatience, but it had been worth it. No matter what the council rules said about the Slayer keeping her identity strictly secret, this girl in particular would need all the friends she could get – and Willow and Xander seemed to be two rare souls, indeed.

Giles straightened his vest and tie as he waited for the elevator to arrive at his floor. He reminded himself that he had work to do, important work, if he was to scourge Sunnydale and his Slayer of the evil making it's mark upon them both. He also had to remind himself that he wasn't being paid to be fatherly. He was being paid to serve up the hard truth of life to the newest Slayer.

Sadly, though, it seemed as if she'd already learned that hardest of lessons on her own.

"God help us, you'd better go the distance Buffy," the watcher muttered to himself as emerged into the hot sunlight.

"The fate of the world is depending on you…"

* * *

It was after midnight, but Buffy couldn't sleep. She'd been out for two weeks, and besides, how much sleep did a person need anyway? 

Buffy looked across the small room from her spot in a hard padded chair by the big picture window. The television light flickered across Xander, who'd fallen asleep watching Saturday Night Live re-runs, a half-eaten bag of chips in his lap as his head lolled on the mate of the same hard chair Buffy sat in. Willow had gone to sleep much earlier, on a cot that one of the floor nurses had kindly rolled in for her.

Buffy smiled slightly. It was nice having someone there for her, even if they barely knew each other. She'd been kinda' surprised to learn that Giles had told them all about her and her calling. The watcher had looked like quite the stickler when it came to rules, and she was sure he'd broken several already.

Xander suddenly gave a low snort, cleared his throat, and bolted up in his chair. He coughed and then gave a wild look around, as if he couldn't remember what he was doing there.

"Hey, you okay?"

The boy looked over at the sound of her voice, and then he visibly relaxed.

"Sorry." He reached up and scrubbed at his face with both hands.

"Nightmares?" Buffy asked, commiserating.

Xander stood up. "Nah. Well…maybe. Let's just say sleep hasn't been an easy thing ever since I found out vampires were _real_."

"Tell me about it."

Xander stretched, smothered a yawn, and bent to retrieve his discarded snack bag from the floor. He rolled it into a ball and shot it across the room to the trash can, missing it. He looked over at Buffy to see if she'd noticed his pathetic game, and saw her looking out of the window again. She looked so sad and lonely it ate him up inside. He wanted to ask her if she needed to talk, but…

"Buffy?" he asked softly.

She looked at him, the television light playing over her face. The resigned look in her hazel green eyes made him lose his confidence.

"Uh…I'm gonna' go get some…coffee." He jerked a thumb towards the door, feeling like a dork as she continued to stare at him. "Yeah…you want something?"

A slight smile finally softened her expression. "No, but…thanks."

Xander returned the faint smile, and left the room, still feeling miserably inept.

When she was alone again – or as good as - Buffy looked out the window of her hospital room again…and almost choked when she saw who was now outside on the street below.

Hot tears suddenly sprang to her eyes at the sight. Her chest actually ached, and it had nothing to do with any pain from her healed ribs.

Buffy stood up, leaning her forehead against the cold glass of the window pane, steadying herself with one palm pressed against the window.

Spike was standing near a lamplight, his blond head bowed as he smoked a cigarette.

She watched as the vampire pulled back one side of his duster to push his lighter back into his jeans pocket. He then turned his head to look at the hospital again – he was staring at the main entrance which was two floors below Buffy's room.

Buffy caught her breath. She knew she was being stupid, but…was he looking for her? Or had he already found her and was just watching over her? Had he missed her? She continued to stare, all the reasons she disliked him, for the moment, gone.

Buffy saw Spike suddenly go very still. The hand lifting the cigarette to his lips slowly dropped to his side. His head tilted back, and she saw him looking up…looking right at her.

Catching her breath again, Buffy immediately dropped like a rock. She sat on her knees on the cold floor, her hands reaching up to tangle in the disheveled hair at her scalp.

God, what had she been thinking?! He wasn't here to watch out for her! He was trying to kill her! How stupid could she be?!

A minute later the heavy door to her room squeaked open. The light shining in from the corridor beyond disguised whoever was entering, but Buffy knew. Her heart beat sped up.

The dark figure stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Still crouched on the floor in nothing but her stupid thin hospital gown that wouldn't close right, and a thin knit blanket tangled around her legs, Buffy stared up at him in a kind of awe. A huge lump of emotion had formed in her throat, making it impossible to speak. She couldn't tell if it was because she was afraid, or soul-deep glad to see him.

In the first few hours of her waking up she tried to convince herself that Spike had never really been as good looking as she' d thought.

Spike smiled his snarly grin at her.

She'd been so wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

She'd been lying to herself in the worst possible way.

Spike sauntered towards her, his boots making no sound on the aged linoleum floor. He stopped in front of her. Her nose caught the scent of his leather duster. The familiar smell seemed soothing somehow, now when her emotions were in a riot.

"Ulp," she finally managed to squeak. Xander was still a no-show, and Willow slept on, peacefully oblivious.

Spike was still smiling, and it was unsettling in the extreme.

"Hullo, Slayer." He reached out a hand to grab hers and pulled her up. Buffy stumbled against him, flattening her breasts against his chest, and Spike chuckled. She looked up at him, enthralled by the deep color of his eyes.

"Didja' miss me?"

He didn't wait for her to answer but picked her up instead, blanket and all, dragging her over his shoulder and jostling her in a way that made her glad her ribs had healed.

"Spike!" she hissed. "Put me down!"

"No way. We've got a lot to talk over, little love, and we can't do it here."

Buffy almost swallowed her tongue.

"Spike – "

"Shh." He put a hand over her mouth, and slapped her rump with the other as he paused outside the door. He kept his hand over her mouth the whole time as he crept down the quiet hallways, until they reached the ground floor and exited out the sliding glass doors.

He also kept his hand on her ass the whole time, too.

Buffy was getting angry. She couldn't take the silence any longer.

She licked him.

Spike dropped his hand – and her, almost – as if it were on fire.

"Spike, what are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

"Home, you silly bint. Now shut-up, will you? There are eyes an' ears all over the place tonight."

Buffy stared at the fluttering tails of his duster against the asphalt as he quickly moved along.

Home? He was taking her back to the _crypt_?!

* * *

**To be Continued** in Chapter Seven

* * *

(A/N: So sorry about the cliffie! Seven will be up much sooner than usual, promise! I also want to take this opportunity to give many thanks to the lovely person who nominated **Broken Origin I** for _Best Kidnapping Fic_ at the Vampire's Kiss Awards! This is its second nomination there – maybe I'll get lucky this time, lol. Anyway, you made my day! Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! ) 


	7. 7

Broken Origin II: Chapter Seven

* * *

Buffy paced the cold crypt floor in her bare feet while she fumed.

She still couldn't believe Spike had brought her in and just dumped her on the top of a tomb before leaving again with some lame ass excuse. It may have been July in Sunnydale, but she was freezing her butt off! The flimsy hospital blanket he'd 'abducted' along with her wasn't doing much in the way of keeping her warm.

What was she doing, hanging around here, waiting for him, anyway? He'd as well as kidnapped her – _again_!

And she'd _let_ him. She'd been so dazed by his coming for her – and not killing her - that she hadn't even thought about putting up a fight.

Maybe she just liked him carrying her around…

"God, I am _so_ mentally challenged."

Staring at the floor in sudden humiliation, Buffy shook her head. She couldn't dwell on the fact that something about Spike made her go stupid whenever he was around. He wasn't here, now, and she had to get back. Poor Willow and Xander were going to have a freak-out, and God only knew what Giles was going to do…

Buffy's toe stubbed up against something hard sticking up out of the floor, and she winced, drawing her foot back, curling up the wounded digit until the pain subsided. Then she looked down and saw the outline of the trapdoor going down to the lower level she recalled Spike talking about before. She realized she hadn't even ever seen it before; but then, how could she have? The floor of the crypt had been so filthy with dirt and debris…

Frowning, Buffy looked around – really looked around – for the first time since Spike had dropped her off.

The crypt was clean.

Well, cleaner then she could remember it being, at least. The floor had been swept clean of leaves, bottles, and trash, as well as most of the dust. The broken tombs had been re-covered with cracked slabs of stone, hiding the dry, skeletal corpses inside, and a five-point black iron candelabra had been placed on top of one of them. The candles were just stubs, really, obviously scavenged, because they were mismatched in color and size, but she was grateful for the light.

Buffy looked up out of curiosity. The ceiling of cobwebs hadn't been touched, unfortunately. She grimaced.

The chill bit at her bare skin again, and Buffy shivered. There wasn't anything up here she could use to cover up with, but what about below…?

After eyeing the candelabra, she bent down and lifted the trapdoor up, revealing a large square of black beneath. It made her pause, made her recall the dark cell Spike had kept her in in L.A., but oddly, the darkness wasn't so scary anymore.

After all, what was there to fear in the darkness that she hadn't already experienced, or seen?

A cold breeze drifted up from below as she stared, making her reach behind her and tug the gaping back of her hospital gown shut. She tugged the blanket higher up around her shoulders. She turned, went back and retrieved the candelabra, and then stood there wondering how she would get down when she noticed the light pick up on a set of very old, very steep steps leading down into the lower crypt.

She cautiously made her way down, stopping when her toes touched dry dirt. She held the candelabra out, and sighed in relief when she saw some of Spike's stuff cluttering the tops of a couple of precariously stacked, old-fashioned coffins lining one of the fissured walls.

Something furry and warm skittered across her bare foot, and Buffy took a deep breath, forcing herself not to react. It was only a rat.

Nonetheless, she didn't waste any time in crossing to the coffin and grabbing the first jumbled stack of clothing she could get her hands on. When she pulled, though, she knocked an old leather-bound book to the floor. Buffy paused, her fingers tangled in Spike's clothing, and looked down at the book in surprise. She heard another rat scratching in a corner, and was tempted to just go and leave the book there, but it was obviously old, and leaving it on the damp dirt floor might damage it irreparably. If it was that old, and Spike still had it, it had to mean _something_ to him.

Buffy sighed, and leaned over, picking the worn book up and tossing it back onto the coffin. As she turned to leave, though, she saw a plump pillow and a single peach satin comforter piled on top of another coffin on the opposite wall. They looked new, and she didn't want to know where they'd come from, but they looked clean, so she grabbed those too, and wobbled her way back upstairs to get comfortable and wait on Spike.

* * *

The Slayer was asleep when he got back. 

Spike frowned when he saw the girl curled up on top of _his_ favorite tomb, in _his_ newly acquired blanket. Annoyed that she'd helped herself to his stuff, he didn't bother closing the door slowly, but the resulting screech didn't make her stir one bit.

Dropping the bundle of clothes he'd stolen for her from the campus laundromat, he strode forward, narrowing his eyes in the faint light from the candles he'd left burning.

Spike took a closer look at the shirt she wore, and scowled.

She was wearing his red button-down open over one of his black t-shirts for something to sleep in. The overly long sleeves were rolled up her forearms, and she had her hands tucked under her chin, her face completely buried in _his_ pillow.

There was no doubt about it. He was gonna' have to get rid of the girl soon, if only for the sake of gettin' his sparse wardrobe back.

Not to mention the fact that he was havin' some pretty fierce feelin's knowing something of his was keeping her warm…he nudged her shoulder with his foot. No response.

Spike rolled his eyes. Some Slayer _she_ was.

A naughty smile stretched across his lips, and he bent down close to her small, soft ear, just peeking out of his blanket.

_"Oi, Slayer!" __

* * *

_

_"Gah!"_

Buffy yelped and jumped up at the ferocious bellow, her eyes springing open in panic as she felt her blankets fall away, and the icy cold floor beneath her bare toes.

"Wha-?" Disoriented, she instinctively brought up her fists, and then blinked when she saw Spike standing in front of her, smirking. She felt her heart slam against her ribs, and then anger rising. She almost popped him in the nose anyway, just because she felt like it, but to Spike that was an open invitation to fight, and she didn't feel much like cracking another rib at the moment. She was still pissed about letting herself be dragged off, though, so she was definitely going to bitch his ear off…

Buffy saw Spike's smirk grow, and watched his blue eyes lazily flicker downwards.

…as soon as she found the blanket again.

* * *

Spike's smile stretched wide as he watched the Slayer's discomfort. He didn't bother looking away as she turned red and dropped to the floor to grab the fallen blanket. He arched a brow as she flung him a stinging glare, but didn't say anything in order to break the uncomfortable silence. 

She'd called the party, after all. Let her make the first move.

"Will you quit looking at me like that?" she finally snapped, one hand holding the blanket to her waist, the other pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Lookin' at you like what?" he asked lowly, enjoying her embarrassment.

She was just burnin' to bite his head off, he could tell.

"Quit staring at my scar," she muttered under her breath, looking away from him.

That made him pause and blink. His eyes flickered up to hers, and then to her lips. He hadn't even noticed the scar, to be truthful. Maybe because it wasn't half as bad as his mind had made it out to be over the last couple weeks. The cut had completely healed, but the scar was still jagged and pink against her pale skin.

Spike felt the slightest twinge of conscience before he angrily pushed it away. He was damned if he was gonna' apologize when he hadn't even been tryin' to kill her yet in the first place. She'd been the one to push him. He'd tried to warn her, but she'd just kept pushing…

"What?" he asked abruptly, as if he hadn't quite heard her.

She looked like she might repeat herself, but she glanced at him again. "Nothing," she muttered instead, biting her lip. She looked entirely too vulnerable in that moment for his liking.

"How're you doin'?" he asked snidely. "All recovered from the beatin' I gave you?"

That got her on the defensive again.

"One hundred and ten percent. I'm obviously doing better than you. I'm alive, at least," she retorted.

His lips twisted. "That good, huh?"

"No thanks to you."

"Well, you don't look like you're over it. Lookin' like you feel pretty shattered."

"Spike, why'd you bring me here? I know it was't because you're worried about how I feel."

"To kill you, what d'you think? You can start screamin' now."

The Slayer didn't roll her eyes at him like she had before whenever he mentioned killing her. She actually looked a little apprehensive, but she managed to shrug it off.

"What's the real reason?"

"You wanna' know? Fine. Get dressed first. You're distractin' me with all that glowing white skin of yours – I'm a vampire, I'm supposed to be pale, but you're givin' me a headache with _that_ glare."

"I won't bother pointing out that the reason I'm so pale is _still all your fault_!" Buffy caught sight of the bundle of clothes on the floor by the door and stomped over to it. After she picked it up she pinned him with another furious look.

"Privacy, please?" she asked pointedly.

"Think you're forgettin' just who this place belongs to, pet."

Buffy shook her hair out of her face. "Fine, I'll just go downstairs, then."

"What's the matter, Slayer? Don't want the Big Bad seein' your frillies?" Spike heard himself taunt.

* * *

Buffy barely managed to ignore the shock of sensation that swept through her at the idea of Spike seeing her in nothing but her panties. No guy had ever seen her like that – not even Tyler, who had been the closest she'd ever come to doing 'it' with… 

For a second, she wished it _was_ Tyler she was having to deal with. Oversexed teenage boys she could handle – oversexed, centuries-old vampires were another matter altogether.

"Spike, somehow I just knew you were going to turn out to be a creepy old pervert," she said angrily.

The vampire wasn't offended in the least. He smiled widely, his blue eyes hooded as he proceeded to look her over.

Buffy barely kept from squirming as his gaze came to rest on her upper chest.

"Or maybe you're tryin' to hide some prematurely saggin' bad girls, eh?"

Buffy's jaw ached from gritting her teeth.

"Flatterin' yourself a fair bit, aren't you? Mean, s'not like you got anythin' I haven't already seen, love. Who d'you think you are? You've got an ass an' a pair o' tits just like all the rest. Think I can restrain myself if I happen to see you starkers," he added scathingly.

_'Oh, no, he totally just didn't – !'_

She would have staked him then and there if she'd had a chance.

"I _think_ I'm the Slayer," she snarled. "I _know_ you're an asshole – and you know what? I _think_ I'm leaving!"

Buffy hitched up her blankets and stomped toward the door. Spike was in front of it before she even got there, blocking her exit.

"Y'can't go out there," he said simply, idly crossing his arms over his chest.

Buffy pressed her lips together. Her temper was about to snap.

"Watch me."

Spike rolled his eyes and dropped his arms, but didn't move from his position in front of the door. He focused on the ceiling, and sighed in a frustrated way.

"Fine, m'sorry I said derogatory things about your 'royal' person, Slayer. I mean, how can you have saggin' tits when you haven't sprouted any yet, anyway? Now will you listen to me for five bloody seconds?"

Buffy wasn't shocked by his backhanded apology. It was Spike, after all. What else could she expect?

"What do you want, Spike?" she finally asked tiredly, still wrestling with the urge to slug him.

"Get dressed, I'll wait outside…while I try to decide if lettin' you live hasn't been the biggest royal fuck-up of my existence," he said warningly. "Then _maybe_ we'll talk."

He gave her a pointed look that warned her not to try and escape, or he'd yank her eyeballs out through her nose.

Buffy returned his warning look in kind, and waited until he went out the door to drop the blankets and shake out the clothes he'd brought. They were obviously stolen, and he hadn't been too discriminating in his choices, either, the jerk.

"Geez, don't you ever buy anything new?" Buffy griped aloud as she perused the worn, olive green fatigue pants and black ribbed tank-top he'd brought. The pants were going to be too big in the waist, and the top was torn around the hem, a thin strip hanging down toward the ground.

"A vampire with personal shopper issues – now _that's_ terrifying…"

"_Heard that_," Spike called through the door, his muffled voice sounding disgruntled.

Buffy rolled her eyes and yanked the pants on, and then reluctantly shucked off Spike's shirts to hurriedly tug on the tank. She shivered as the cool air hit sleep-warmed skin, and felt her throat go tight as the warmth and the leathery/smoke scent abruptly disappeared along with the clothes.

She was right about the pants. They were baggy in the leg and hung super-low on her hips, exposing most of her hipbones – and the fact that she wore nothing underneath – and the ripped hem on the black tank hung down towards her thigh. However, they were clean, at least. She could smell the fabric softener fresh on them.

She bundled the blankets, shirt and all, into an untidy ball, and piled them on top of a tomb. Some vague need for revenge made her keep the vampire's red shirt, though. She smiled a little evilly as she pulled it on over the tank and tied it at the waist.

"You can come back, now," she finally called, snagging the torn hem of the tank and ripping it the rest of the way off.

Buffy was tying her hair back from her face with the strip of fabric when Spike came back through the door, carrying a pair of small black boots in one hand. He stopped when he saw her, and narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, now, that's _my_ shirt!"

Planting her hands on her hips, Buffy smiled sweetly at him.

"You'll get it back…someday."

"I mean to have it back before you lay one toe down outside this door," he retorted, flinging the boots at her.

Buffy caught the heavy boots in the crook of her arm and ignored the sting of the rubber soles hitting her soft inner elbow. She caught them by their laces and dangled them at arm's length, eyeing them speculatively. In description, all she could think of was "_retro_".

"_What_ are _these_?"

The vampire frowned at her. "They won't do you any good if I have to tell you what those are, Slayer."

"Spike, I'm not wearing somebody's grungy old – "

"They were Dru's, alright? Picked 'em upin London'bout the time your mum was still changin' your nappies. She wore 'em once, didn't care for 'em. Been ridin' around in the boot ever since we came to the States, even when I left the car in storage. Take 'em or leave 'em, don't matter to me."

Buffy pulled one of the boots on and stamped her foot for good measure. She didn't know whether to be glad or disturbed that she and Spike's former paramour shared the same foot size.

"Thanks, Spike. This was…thoughtful of you," Buffy managed to choke out.

Spike held his hands up, his expression going sour around the edges. "Spare me, please. You're gonna' offend m'tender ears with all that fake gratitude."

She was more than relieved to let it go.

"Fine with me. So, what'd you need to talk to me so badly about that you dragged me out of the hospital in the middle of the night?"

Spike smirked, his scarred eyebrow rising with the slow motion.

"I dunno, Slayer. What did you need so badly that you let me?"

_Gulp._

Buffy stared at him, deer-in-the-headlights.

He snorted. "Get that look off your face, girl, m'just winding you up. C'mere n' sit down, now. Ol' Spike's got a story ta' tell."

* * *

Giles returned to the hospital just after midnight…only to find the hallway outside the Slayer's room in an uproar. Doctors, orderlies, and nurses stood in groups, talking to two uniformed police officers. 

He was about to catch the shoulder of one of the nurses and demand to know what was going on when Willow and Xander caught his eye, waving him over to where they stood just around the corner at the end of the hall.

Giles gave the chaos a last, harried look before he hurried down to talk to the two youths.

"What had happened?" he asked immediately. "Where is Buffy?"

The boy, Xander, stood with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, his dark eyes looking haunted.

"I left the hospital room to get some coffee," he explained quickly. "Before I headed back, I saw Buffy being carried off by that Spike guy."

Giles slumped against the wall. "Oh, dear lord."

"It's my fault," Xander said. "If I hadn't left…I should've tried to stop him."

"You said he was too far away for you to catch up anyway," Willow protested, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. She turned tear-reddened eyes on Giles. "If it was anybody's fault, it's mine. I fell asleep – "

Giles straightened up. "It was just as well you did. There was little you could have done. I take full responsibility – she was my Slayer, and I should have waited until I was certain there was no danger by leaving."

"Wait. What do you mean, 'was'?" Xander asked angrily. "You talk like she's dead already."

"In light of what I have learned about the undead of Sunnydale today, there really is every likelihood that she is," Giles told him shakily.

As if having this Spike fellow – an obvious master - in town, on top of _the_ Master, wasn't bad enough, the vampire who'd killed the previous Slayer before Buffy, Angelus – yet _another_ master vampire - was in Sunnydale.

"You're not just gonna' give up on her, on you?" Willow asked, looking horrified.

"Yeah, you're gonna' look for her, aren't you?"

Pulling a kerchief out of his pocket, Giles wiped the folded cloth across his brow and upper lip. He then fumbled about with nerveless fingers until he found the small telephone tucked away in another pocket.

"Of course I will not abandon her. I shall just have to inform the council of what has happened, and they will alert the team that originally tracked them here from L.A. to search for her and the vampire that kidnapped her…as soon as I remember how to turn this ruddy thing back on."

Willow took the phone from him and flipped it open, pushing a button and then another before thrusting it back at him.

"There, it's ringing."

Giles stared at her. "How did you know - ?"

"Oh, the number? It's already programmed into the phone. Didn't you know? All you have to do is dial '2' and hit 'Send'."

Dropping his eyes to the troublesome object, Giles frowned until he heard a voice speaking on the other end. Lifting it to his ear so quickly he almost dropped it, he spoke into it.

"Hello? Yes, it's Giles." He rolled his eyes. "_Rupert_ Giles. Yes, the librarian – may I speak to Quentin Travers? Well, find him, damn you! There's been a…a bit of an upset, here…"

Turning away slightly, cursing as he was put on hold, Giles failed to notice Xander and Willow quickly making an exit behind him.

* * *

Buffy was extremely worried by the time Spike was finished with his undoubtedly 'fishy' explanation. She had the feeling that he was leaving out things. 

She pressed her fingertips to her temples as she tried to absorb it all – and it was a lot.

"What was this guy's name again?"

"Angelus. A.K.A. the Scourge of Europe, the Terror of Mongolia – "

"Okay, okay, I get it, big bad guy. The question is, what's he doing here?"

"He's here to make my exisistence miserable, is what he's here for. That, and to 'help' the Master rise. He's got plans of his own on that score, m'certain."

"Okay. So you _don't_ want to see this Master rise?"

"Hell, no!"

"Even though he's your, what? Great-grand…sire?"

"He's not exactly anyone I care to lay claim to. You think I don't have anything better to do than be at that crusty old sod's beck 'n call, my only reason for existing to figure out how to set about grubbin' him up outta' the bloody ground so he can go around fucking up my world? I like it the way it is, thanks. Far as I'm concerned, the Master can rot in his hole." Spike stopped his rant long enough to tear a matchstick out of the book now sitting on the tomb lid next to him, strike it impatiently on the side of his drawn-up boot, and put it's flame to the end of his ever-present cigarette.

Buffy slid off her perch next to him – a safe distance away, of course – and began pacing nervously.

"So what are we gonna' do? I mean, this Master sounds bad enough, but he's got that chick – "

"Darla," Spike supplied in a bored tone.

" – Darla, and that 'Angelus' guy, and the minions – " she stopped in her tracks and shook her head. "This is insane. As if my life isn't bad enough, now I have to stop a bunch of vampires from trying to take-over the planet!" She looked at Spike in exasperation and with a hint of vulnerability. "I don't know how I'm gonna' do this, Spike," she confessed.

"Well, that's where Yours Truly comes in," Spike said self-importantly, hopping off the tomb to face her. He took a deep draw off the cigarette and lifted his fingers to his lips to remove it, leaning back against the tomb, balancing on his elbows. He smiled wickedly.

"See…_I'm_ gonna' kill 'em."

Buffy didn't take that comment too well.

"Hey, _I'm_ the Slayer, here! _I'm_ the one who's supposed to kill this 'Master' guy! _I'm_ the Chosen one!"

Spike's smile faded and he snorted as he straightened up from his relaxed pose, as if sensing a fight coming on. "Freakish strength and a guaranteed early death. An' wasn't that a lovely gift to receive from the christening party good fairy? Bet you're ever-so proud," he said bitingly, dropping the cigarette underfoot and grinding it into the stone.

"You just don't get it, do you? You're a vampire! You don't just run around helping the good guys and killing your own…do you?"

Spike didn't hesitate to correct her. "Hey! M'not helpin' anybody. What I do n' why I do it is no one's business but my own!" He tapped his chest with one lean finger.

"You're planning something," Buffy said suspiciously. "You want Sunnydale for yourself, don't you?" she further accused. "You were gonna' kill me after it's all said and done, weren't you?"

"What makes you think m'not still plannin' on it?" Spike asked, drawing himself up challengingly.

Buffy's eyes widened with sudden understanding.

"No, you weren't gonna' kill me…you were gonna' let the Master do it for you, and then kill him, weren't you? And then your sire shows up and you know you can't beat _him_ – "

"Hey, now!"

" – and it's put a twist in your plans, is that it?"

Spike looked down on her with a slight sniff, dropping his shoulders into their usual, careless slouch. "I don't need anyone to help me beat Angelus," he muttered belligerently. He cut his blue eyes at her. "I can take 'im. And don't go gettin' all miffy with me. S'not my fault you got tapped to be a soddin' martyr."

Buffy thrust her chin in the air. "I'm not 'miffy'. Besides, what makes you think _I_ couldn't take these guys?"

"Y'mean _besides_ your self-professed doubt?" Spike flicked his forefinger against his temple. "I know whereof I speak."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Spike sighed, and let his head fall to one side as he looked at the ceiling in exasperation. "It means you're _barking_."

"_Urgh_!" Beyond aggravated herself Buffy almost punched him. "Why do you have to be so…so…"

"Wickedly good-looking?" He pressed his tongue against his teeth and peered at her from under lowered lashes.

"_Grr. _I can never understand half of what you're saying!"

"Prob'ly jus' as well," Spike muttered under his breath.

"Just forget it!" Buffy turned away and began pacing the floor again.

"So they're going to try and kill me, huh?"

"They won't just _try_, pet. Don't matter if they manage to fail the first time, or even the second. They'll come after you with everythin' they got 'till you're nothin' but 'a footnote in some Watcher's dusty old diary'", he said, cheerfully throwing her own words to him back in her face. "Angelus alone would break you like a toothpick."

"So do something about it."

_That_ made him draw back. He looked at her as if he couldn't believe what she was saying.

Buffy couldn't believe what she was saying either.

"You were training me…so why don't you finish it?"

Spike shook his head, looking at her as if he were in awe of her utter insanity.

"You _are_ barking."

* * *

"Xander, I wanna' find her as much as you do, but where do we even start? Maybe we should just wait on Giles - ?" Willow asked Xander as they stood in the middle of the street outside of the hospital. 

"When she was having dinner earlier, Buffy said she'd been staying in a cemetery, remember? She didn't want to talk about it. Or _him_," he added bleakly. "I bet he took her back there."

"Yeah, but…there are a lot of cemeteries in Sunnydale. I'm just worried we're gonna' run into that Spike guy if we find her," Willow said anxiously. "I don't wanna' get bitten again. That was _not_ fun."

Xander gave a fierce shudder, looking around the dark streets with nervous eyes.

"Knock it off, will ya? Every time you say that guy's name I swear I get a rash." To make his point, Xander began scratching at his forearms through his sleeves.

"C'mon. I'll take you home, and go check the cemeteries out for myself."

"What? No way! We're in this together, buster!"

"Willow, it's going to be dangerous."

"So you just think I'm gonna' go home and go to sleep knowing you're chasing around vampires?"

Xander smiled at her.

Willow smiled back.

"Restfield is the closest," Xander finally said. "Let's start there."

Willow nodded reluctantly, but started walking with him down the street.

"Let's just hope Mr. Giles's 'team' shows up soon."

"I wouldn't count on him," Xander commented, sounding a little angry.

"Why not?"

"These council guys don't seem to be too worried about Buffy, if you ask me. I mean, look at what they let her go through, even after they found her. "

Willow was doubtful. "I dunno. I like Mr. Giles. He seemed like he was pretty worried about her to me."

"Maybe. It's just…I think there's a hell of a lot more going on here than anyone's telling us."

Willow snorted. "What else could be worse than Spike? Oh. Sorry."

Xander frowned at her and kept on scratching his arm.

* * *

He and the Slayer had gone their separate ways again – for the time being. 

Spike watched Buffy as she made her way back down the streets toward the hospital. When he was satisfied she'd make it safely, he headed back to the crypt to settle in early for the coming day. He had the feeling he was going to need the rest…

He hadn't taken two steps inside the cemetery gates before he saw trouble.

Or maybe just a couple of late night snacks.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Slayer's pets. It's late. Shouldn't you two be tucked up all nice 'n snug somewhere?"

"We're looking for Buffy," the tasty brunette blurted, looking faintly defiant.

Spike smiled. "Buffy?"

The boy got all puffed-up at that. "Yeah, Buffy? The girl I saw you take off with at the hospital a couple of hours ago? She's got dark blonde hair and big casabas?"

"_Xander_!" The girl slapped his shoulder, though she didn't take her wary eyes off Spike.

Xander shrugged. "What? I yammer when I'm nervous." He gave his arm a fierce scratch and glared at him.

Spike drew back his head and gave him an odd, pointed look.

"Oh, n-no offense," the girl stammered, "but you give him hives."

Spike bit the inside of his cheek, and took a few deceptively careless steps towards them through the fog, feeling immense satisfaction when the pair skittered back away from him.

"So…Buffy of the big casabas. We _are_ talkin' about the same bint, here, aren't we?" he asked. He let his eyes trail contemptuously over the boy. "Or maybe you've just never seen what 'big' really is. No room for comparison, eh?"

The girl looked at him in confusion while the boy turned bright red, looking all affronted.

"Hey!"

Spike gave a shrug and started back on his way.

"Hey, you! Where do you think you're going? What'd you do with Buffy?"

"She went back to her bleedin' watcher," he tossed carelessly over his shoulder.

"An' if you're smart, you'll run for home right now, and don't stop for nothin' along the way. There's worse things than me out huntin' tonight…"

Xander and Willow watched after the vampire until he disappeared, and then looked at each other.

Willow rubbed her arms as if she were cold and took a quick look around.

"What are we gonna' do now?"

Xander swallowed as he heard what sounded like a shuffling step in the near distance. All manner of zombie and other horror flick scenes began flashing through his mind's eye. He took Willow's hand and quickly led her out of the cemetery.

"Xander?"

He smiled nervously at her.

"Willow?"

"What?"

"Walk me home?"

* * *

Buffy almost ran into Giles on her way back into the hospital. 

The watcher almost dragged her back out of the place, muttering on about the police, and her still being wanted, and how she'd apparently escaped 'custody'. He didn't even give her a chance to speak before he bundled her up in his tweed jacket and pushed her into the passenger side of his unbelievably ancient foreign car…which was how they'd ended up here, at his newly acquired apartment located in an adobe building not far from the high school.

It was obvious he hadn't been there long – dozens of boxes and crates stood stacked along the walls, and his furniture was still covered in plastic.

Buffy was bored, roaming the place, looking through his empty fridge as he rummaged around, his glasses hanging off the end of his nose, his hair sticking up all over from where he'd run his fingers through it.

"Spike – that's a little unorthodox, isn't it? Maybe he went by another name in times past?"

"William the Bloody," Buffy said, peeking hopefully into a squeaking cupboard.

Nothin' but dust.

"Buffy, if you are hungry, I'm sorry. There isn't anything in the house except for tea."

_What a shocker…_

Giles abruptly stilled and looked at her very slowly over the tops of his glasses. "William the Bloody? Wait, I know that…"

Buffy rolled her eyes as he blinked twice and delved into his boxes of books again. He was talking more to himself than her, now. "Great, can I go, now?"

That made him look up again in a hurry. "No, wait! Where – just where do you think you can possibly go besides here? Surely you do not intend on staying with this creature? This vampire, Buffy…he's bad for you."

Buffy made a face.

Spike was just plain bad, period.

He was obnoxious, and rude, and evil.

He was also, bizarrely, the most important thing in her life now…but she'd be the first to admit that dealing with Spike made her feel like a baby-sitter dealing with the neighbor-kid from Hell.

"I…don't know where I'm staying. I've got things to do, though, and you know it better than anyone. Look, I'll lay low until you get me cleared with the police, alright?"

"Buffy, you are better than this. You must come to live with me. You are my responsibility now. I cannot allow this vampire to corrupt the strength and purity of your heart."

"He's not 'corrupting' anything, Giles! He's training me!"

"In case you have forgotten, that is _my_ job!"

"Fine!" Buffy said in exasperation. "Why don't you _both_ train me?"

"Why I…I have never heard anything so insulting in my entire life. Me, work beside a-a vampire? The very idea is nothing less than preposterous!"

"Giles? Can ya' get any more stuffy?"

"Buffy, you are not thinking clearly," Giles sputtered. "You surely don't believe that this vampire is willingly going to switch allegiances – "

"Take it or leave it. Think about it this way, Giles. Spike knows all about this Master guy and the others. He knows how they work, can find out what they're planning. It'll be like having your own personal spy!" Buffy knew she was laying it on way too thick – Spike would kill her if he knew what she was saying.

She looked at Giles hopefully. It seemed like he was on the verge of caving…

"I cannot believe I am agreeing to this, but it seems as if I have no other alternative at the moment, so…fine. If itwill keep you from running off again. I will train you, but not alongside this 'Spike'. You will continue this way on the condition that you meet with me every evening before patrol – "

"You do mean hunting vampires by this, right?"

" – and check in with me daily by telephone. I will see that you are given one."

"It's _cell_ phone, Giles. Great, now all we have to do is make sure you learn how to use one," Buffy said cheerily. "This is gonna' work out great! You can teach me how to fight in a Slayer-ly tradition, and Spike can teach me all the dirty stuff."

"Buffy!"

"And I _so_ didn't mean that last part the way it sounded," she tacked on hastily.

Giles didn't look comforted.

"In the meantime, I must insist that you at least _think_ about returning to school."

"No way. I am not going back. Especially _not_ there. Not to a new school."

"Buffy, you won't be alone there, remember? I will be there, working in my guise as the librarian, and so will Xander and Willow. If it's friends you're worried about – "

"I'm not worried about friends, Giles. It's the non-friendly ones I'm thinking about. In L.A. I had to fight to stay popular, just to be able to happily exist, and it was an everyday thing. I don't want to go back to someplace where I'll have to start all over again."

"Just what do you intend to do all day, then? ""Time hangs when one has nothing to do,"" Giles quoted sagely.

"I like hanging," Buffy protested loudly. "I _like_ it! That's what teenagers are supposed to do, Giles! _Hang_!"

The watcher only sighed and shook his head. "This is not how things were to turn out. Clearly, you do not comprehend how perilous your situation now is."

Buffy gave him a thin smile. She looked down, fiddling with the tie of the red shirt she wore. Spike hadn't asked for his shirt back after all. What did that mean?

"Oh, I _comprehend_. I get the feeling you're right. Things definitely weren't supposed to turn out like this. Somehow…I think this way is gonna' hurt a lot more."

* * *

Continued in Chapter Eight – _Coming Soon!

* * *

_

_NEXT: _

Cordelia finished looking Spike over with her mercenary gaze, and flicked her eyes back to Buffy.

"He's not my usual type, but he's promising. It's been a slow summer. Willow said you live with him?" The other girl looked at her with speculation.

"I – er, just in a…temporary capacity. A _really_ temporary capacity."

"Hm. Yeah. Well, I gotta' ask. What's it like to be alone in a dark room with him?" Cordelia purred.

Buffy winced at her memories.

"Believe me, you don't wanna' know," she settled for saying dryly.

"He _is_ older than you, isn't he?"

_You have no idea…

* * *

_

_Standard Disclaimer Applies_


	8. Chapter Eight

Broken Origin II: Chapter Eight

* * *

The crypt seemed empty when she returned. Buffy entered the dark space cautiously, but without any of the fear she'd once known. She let a heavy black backpack filled with supplies from Giles slide from her shoulder to the ground by the door, and ventured further inside. 

"Spike?"

The door creaked behind her, and she pivoted.

Spike was standing there with his back to the closed door, watching her.

"You gonna' stand there starin' at me all day, Slayer, or are you gonna' tell me what the hell's goin' on?"

Buffy looked him over as he strode up to the single candelabra and proceeded to light it, not quite catching on to what he was saying.

Spike had this I've-seen-it-all-and-lived-to-tell attitude that was just fascinating to her. Other people would probably find it intimidating, though, especially with his tendency to break out in a menacing mask of bumpy ridges, predatory yellow-orange eyes, and razor-edged fangs.

Buffy found herself drawn to him rather than discouraged, though…most of the time, anyway.

"Well? What the bloody hell did you tell your watcher that he's gonna' let you stay here with me? That's what you're here for, innit? Which, by the way, I never recall sayin' you could!"

"I told him the truth," Buffy finally said.

Spike's eyes flared and then narrowed.

"An' the burning question is why. Just what is the 'truth'?"

"I told him you were gonna' help train me."

Spike's face went completely cold as he pulled back slightly. Then his eyebrows lowered.

"Run."

Taken off guard, Buffy fought to stay her ground.

"What?"

One eyebrow arched back up. "I'm afraid I might bruise you if you stay within' thumping distance," he growled.

She snorted. "You never cared before."

"Oh? Do you _want_ me to thump you?"

Buffy took a reflexive step back, and then began to move around him. "You don't want me here? Fine. I'll just be going then." She walked towards the door and the pack of supplies Giles had given her. She was stopped by Spike's leather clad arm blocking her way.

"You can't go out there."

"Will you give it a break? They don't even know who I am. How can they hunt me if they don't know what I look like?"

"It won't take 'em long to find out," Spike said grimly. "They'll see you fightin' on the hunt eventually, and know."

"I'll just have to kill them, then," Buffy replied with more confidence than she felt.

Spike looked insultingly doubtful.

"Just find a place to kip for a few hours, and then we'll get started trainin' you."

Buffy scowled and went to retrieve the pack.

"Thanks for making me sound like a new puppy," she grumbled. "Wanna' put me on some newspaper in case I have any accidents…?"

* * *

"You realize that this mustn't be allowed to continue."

Giles swallowed, knowing exactly what was coming. Suddenly his nightly ring to his 'superiors' in the council seemed even more troublesome than usual…of course, his being exhausted with jet lag he'd never been allowed to sleep off, and the stress of worry caused by his slayer prancing off to do god-knows-what with a vampire during the day didn't help matters any, either…

"Sir – "

"If you care to keep your post, Giles, I suggest that you agree with me on this."

_Bastard…_

Giles sighed heavily. "Well, of course, Quentin, but it's just that this is…is a very tentative time for my slayer. I am the first to agree that having a vampire in daily contact with Ms. Summers is ludicrous, but her metal state at present is at best …delicate."

"Her mental state is exactly what we are concerned about, Rupert. No one can go through kidnapping and captivity without being touched by the ordeal psychologically. We believe she is suffering from some form of Stockholm Syndrome. Removing the vampire from the scene is the only way to put her on the road to recovery."

"Stockholm Syndrome?" Giles didn't want to believe it was possible, but given Buffy's adamant decision to stay with the vampire, he couldn't help but consider the idea.

"The team you requested last evening to find the Slayer is already enroute," Quentin Travers went on. "They've been given instructions to destroy the vampire – with your cooperation, of course."

"Of course," Giles echoed, staring at the scarred wooden floor of his flat, feeling suddenly dry-mouthed. He really needed a drink and a long, uninterrupted sit-down.

"Well, that's settled, then. I trust you will have the matter firmly in-hand when next we speak – as well as your slayer. It is, after all, what we hired you for, isn't it Rupert, your ability to diffuse these types of potentially dangerous situations? A mentally unstable slayer who could turn rogue is a catastrophe waiting to happen…"

"I foresee no potential problems with Miss Summers," Giles said coolly, hoping he wasn't lying through his teeth.

"Good, good. That's good to hear, Rupert. The team, now, had been given orders to report directly to you upon their arrival in Sunnydale."

Giles forced his hand to loosen its grip on the phone before he smashed the receiver. "I will await their contact."

"Fine. Contact us when the job is complete."

"Yes. Goodbye." Without waiting for a reply, Giles cut the connection and dropped the earpiece back into its cradle on his desk. He stared at the phone for several moments before closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

Quentin Travers was a pompous prick, and he always had been. It irked Giles to no end to be on the receiving end of his orders when he was tucked safe away in London, far from the chaos of what was happening half-way around the bloody world.

Travers had no idea what Buffy was going to do when her vampire was destroyed, and truthfully, neither did Giles, exactly.

One thing was for certain, however; Giles would be the one stuck with the cleaning up in the aftermath…

* * *

Buffy was beginning to regret her decision to stay at the crypt. It was cold, and musty, and Spike had flat-out refused to let her use his blankets again, so she'd slept – or rather, tossed – away the dawn hours after she'd left her watcher's apartment on the stupid stone bench again. She'd spent most of the time thinking about Giles, and his offer that she come to live with him. 

It was tempting, considering Spike's less-than welcoming attitude when she'd returned…but living with Giles would steal away her newfound freedom, and she wasn't about to give up control of her life to others that easily.

Buffy looked up as Spike approached her. He'd been in a dark mood ever since he'd woken her up and told her to go scrounge up something to eat before they got down to training. She'd taken one look at his hooded eyes and taut jaw, and wisely left.

Now his grumpiness was just getting annoying.

Buffy looked the vampire up and down before crossing her arms and leaning back against the tomb she stood against.

"Geez, who spit in your O positive?"

Spike sneered at her and Buffy wondered if she shouldn't have just _stayed_ away.

"All right," Spike said, his blue eyes sizing her up. "Might as well start from the beginning, again, seein' as you still fight like a priss." He snorted.

"I've watched you, and you always go into a fight expectin' to be beaten. That'll get you dead right quick. Me an' luck have gotten you this far, but now…you need to learn how to take a punch, 'stead of just dodgin' 'em."

Buffy tensed despite herself as Spike motioned with curled fingers for her to step out into the middle of the crypt. He began to slowly circle her.

He was in that easy, predatory slouch again, his eyes steady on her, his chin lowered slightly toward his chest…she felt like he was stalking her again, and she didn't like that one little bit. The bite scar on her wrist gave a wicked throb.

What if he started wailing on her? She was strong, yeah, stronger than she'd been before she'd ever been kidnapped, but although she could hold her own, she still didn't know much about fighting, and Spike had long-since proved he wasn't the most patient type –

" – tighten your stomach muscles. You get hit just right in the gut, you can be killed. Oi, you even listenin' to me, Slayer?"

Buffy straightened up. Had he said 'don't' tighten your stomach muscles, or 'do'?

"I heard you," she scoffed, settling one hand on her hip.

Spike's nostril's flared – right along with his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it." And he slugged her in the stomach.

Buffy doubled over and then hit the floor. From there on it was a struggle to decide whether or not to pass out or just barf up her toenails…

* * *

It was dusk, and Buffy was lying on her back on top of the tomb nearest the crypt door, which was open to sweltering heat outside. 

She ached all over, was bloody and sweaty, and still, unbelievably, cold, hence the door being open. She had an icy-hot pack from Giles's knap-sack of goodies on one shoulder, and a now-empty bottle of water held loosely in one hand.

Buffy watched the orange sky outside turn purple, and then midnight blue as night fell, and then she turned her head on the cool stone as she heard Spike ascending from the lower level.

They'd been training all day long, but where Buffy looked and felt like it, Spike didn't even have one unruly curl loose from the slicked back waves of his platinum hair.

He was carrying his duster in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other.

Biting back a wince, Buffy sat up. She set the water bottle on the lid beside her, and let the ice pack slide from her shoulder. "Where are you going?"

Spike placed the cigarette between his lips and swung the duster around and over his shoulders, sliding his arms into the sleeves with practiced ease.

"D'you really want to know?" he asked mockingly as he pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, and kicked the trap door closed with a loud thud that reverberated throughout the crypt.

Buffy shrugged. "Just…curious."

Spike wasn't convinced by her show of carelessness. "Uh-huh. You want to know where I'm goin' so you can keep tabs on me."

"Nuh-uh!" Buffy pushed herself off of the edge of the tomb. "I was just wondering!"

"Yeah." He nodded towards the door. "Aren't you late for your keeper's?

"What? Oh, Giles! Damn, he's going to freak! I'm so late!" Buffy ran her fingers through her sweat-damp hair and then gave up, rushing towards the doors. Spike met her there.

"I'll walk you," he said as they exited into the night, and he pulled the heavy doors closed.

Buffy looked at him, surprised.

Spike rolled his eyes. "What're you waitin' on? Quit fannyin' around an' start walkin'. Odds are Angelus has got some big guns after you, now, an' if he don't, then he will soon."

Buffy frowned. "If he's really gonna' want me dead so badly, why wouldn't he just come after me himself?"

Spike snorted and started walking, leaving Buffy to hurry after him. "Angelus wouldn't want to mess his hands with you unless he absolutely had to," he threw back over his shoulder as he easily the maneuvered the dark, uneven grounds. "If there's someone else available to do the serious dirty work, he'll set them to it. See, unlike me, he's got a healthy fear of you slayers – not that he couldn't kill you. He just doesn't believe in askin' for trouble. He won't come after you himself until he thinks you're worthy of his precious bloody time."

Buffy fought off a shiver as the night air caressed her damp skin.

"I still don't need a baby-sitter," she felt compelled to say.

"Just shut-it and walk, will ya'?" Spike snapped darkly.

Buffy felt her face flush with anger, but she bit her lip as she followed him out the gates into the quiet street. She really didn't feel like fighting with him tonight – he'd been in a weird mood all day, his expression while they trained determined, fierce. She'd never seen him act that way before, and she didn't think she wanted to push it…

They were half-way to Giles's when an approaching car's headlight's flashed across them. Buffy squinted against the light as the car screeched to a shuddering halt beside them, and a door squealed open on rusty hinges.

"Buffy! Thank heavens you're all right!"

Blinking as her eyes readjusted to the darkness, Buffy saw Giles walking towards them, a relieved expression on his face. She also saw the exact moment he saw Spike standing next to her.

Hoping to stave off the imminent lecturing, and possible ensuing violence, Buffy called out to him. "Giles! Hi…uh, your car is smoking."

The older man didn't stop until he was directly in front of her. She noticed he had a cross and a stake in his hands, and was keeping a jaundiced eye on Spike.

"It always does that," Giles remarked a little defensively.

Spike, of course, wasted no time in voicing his observation.

"Looks like that old heap of yours has had the biscuit, mate," the vampire drawled in a bored voice around his cigarette.

Giles glared at him. "I don't recall asking your opinion – and I'm not your bloody 'mate'." He glanced back at Buffy, noting her disheveled state. "What has he been doing to you? Are you all right?"

Spike made a sound of disgust from beside them.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, shooting Spike a quick look.

"Meet up with you later?"

"Jesus, Slayer, I'm not gonna' spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. I may know you, but m'not gonna' advertise it."

"Spike?"

The blonde vamp ignored her, though his profile tightened.

Buffy sighed. "Spike, just…try to act your age, for once. Don't …kill anybody. Okay?"

Giles gave a slight, disbelieving laugh. "You really think he's going to listen to you? His kind are incapable of behaving in a manner – "

"Maybe we should just get out of here," Buffy cut in on Giles, who was still glaring at the vampire. "I'll just…uh…wait in the car."

Spike shook his head as he watched the slayer beat a hasty retreat to the watcher's car – if it could still be identified as that.

"Oi," he finally said to the irate man. "You want me to kick your ass now, or later?"

The watcher looked taken aback. "S-sorry?"

Spike shrugged easily. "I can tell that's what it's gonna' take for you to accept the fact that I'm the one in control, here. You wanna' test who's got the biggest wrinklies 'round here, step on up." Dropping his cigarette, Spike lazily waved him forward.

"I don't indulge in scraps," the tweedy-looking council member said, looking down his nose at Spike.

Spike drew his head back in disgust. "Ponce."

The watcher stepped close to him, obviously trying to be intimidating. Spike smirked.

"This…thing you have, with Buffy," the watcher said lowly, "even you realize it's not at all right."

Spike dismissed him with a look and deliberately turned his back, knowing he was insulting the other man by casting him off as any kind of potential threat.

"It's not right, it's not wrong, it just is. Tell the slayer I'll see her in the morning." He sauntered off with deliberate carelessness, sensing the older man's furious stare biting into his back.

* * *

He was pushing her hard, too hard. He knew what he was teaching her had little to do with her saving the world…and everything to do with the vain hope that she would somehow be able to save herself in the end that would inevitably come. The fact that her survival had become important to him was something he didn't care to admit to. 

Giles watched as Buffy battled a large vampire, shaking his head, and making mental notes about the roughness of her technique.

They were in Weatherly Park, a place Giles found ideal for watching the slayer in her 'natural' environment. The acres of wooded area held a veritable cornucopia of dangerous creatures.

Watching from several feet away, Gils sighed at the slayer's continual mistakes. There were so many things wrong with her technique he didn't know where to begin. He could certainly tell what the heathen vampire had been teaching her apart from her own natural, as-yet untrained style.

"The stake is at your waist," he told her in a calm, authoritative voice as the fight wound down. "Don't waste time bringing it upward to strike downward. The moment you have it clear, drive it up and in. Beneath the ribs."

He needn't have bothered. The struggle was already over in the time it had taken him to speak.

Giles watched as Buffy, barely out of breath, turned to him, tucking the stake away again.

"Listen, I know how to dust a vampire," she told him arrogantly. "You've been like this all night long. If that's all you're here for – "

"What I am here for, is to tech you the correct, most expedient way to dispose of dangerous creatures," Giles interrupted her impatiently.

"Wait, let me get this straight. There's a 'correct' way to slay vampires? Color me surprised." Buffy sighed, suddenly looking dead tired. "Listen, I know it's still a little early for me to cut out, but do you mind? It's only a few hours 'til dawn, and Spike had something planned for later, and I wanna' try to get some sleep."

_'I'll just wager he has,'_ Giles thought knowingly as he watched Buffy turn away. He thought of the books open on his desk at home, and of how close he was getting to learning the true identity of this 'Spike'. Perhaps it was just as well Buffy was calling things off for the night…

"And just what are these plans?" he called after her as she made to leave.

Buffy turned back to look at him through the darkness, and he caught the white flash of her smile.

"Oh, he's teaching me how to use a crossbow," she called back, her voice tinged with excitement…then she was gone.

"Oh, dear lord. The earth is doomed."

* * *

Spike had been loitering in the back of a hole-in-the-wall called Willie's Bar when he'd seen the roughly dressed characters enter through the front doors. He hadn't even had to hear the blokes talk to know that they weren't from around these parts, or even that they were council toughs. He'd had run-ins with the type before, over the years. The way they carried themselves, as if they were on the hunt, not to mention the bulges beneath their bulky coats, and the questions they put to the weasel-faced barkeep, gave them away. 

Lingering over the last of a long round of beers, Spike had kept his head down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible from the shadowy corner he'd chosen. Sometimes acting like you belonged was the best disguise. A few other of his kind, however, had wasted no time in rising, paying their tabs, and disappearing through the discreet rear exit.

Listening intently as one man, clearly the leader of the team, spoke into a cell phone, it hadn't taken Spike long to learn what they were for.

They were here to kill him – and take Buffy into their custody if she proved difficult.

Spike had waited until the nervous-looking barkeep, Willy, had inadvertently distracted the men by offering them a round of drinks on the house, and then escaped through the back door as well.

He was walking down an alley running perpendicular to Main now, moving towards home, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Yesterday the answer would have been absurdly simple – stalk 'em, kill 'em one by one, and leave the remains to be found as a grisly warning to the watcher's council not to fuck with the likes of him.

Today, however…

_'Try to act your age for once. Don't kill anybody…okay?' _

Spike could almost laugh at the slayer's order.

Wasn't his fault trouble always seemed to find 'im. Wasn't like he went _lookin'_ for it…least not _all_ the time…but then he'd never run from it, either.

Spike clenched his teeth as remembered the council's possible plans for her if she wouldn't come to heel under her watcher's hand. They'd talked about hurting her, putting her down because of him, because she was wrong…

His skin prickled. He broke into a run. He was being followed…and if that wasn't enough of a hint, the sudden searing pain in his left shoulder was.

Spike had taken a bolt through the shoulder, but he didn't slow down. He kept running until he saw the a man with a crossbow jump down from his perch on a fire escape, and tackled the bastard even as was loading another bolt. The impact knocked the hunter out, and Spike got to his knees with a pained growl.

He glared down at the wood and steel shaft sticking through fine grain leather and flesh, and reached up with his left hand to rip it free, snapping one end and pulling the tip out the other side, tossing the pieces aside with a snarl.

The hunter made a noise on the damp pavement below him as he regained consciousness, and Spike struggled with the need to bite his throat out.

Temptation was a bitch.

Sure, the slayer had asked him not to kill anyone, but they were in Sunnydale, the vampire capital of the whole bloody world – how would she know if he killed? The human population of the little town dropped by two's and three's every day, and would probably continue to do so, even with her efforts. How would she know one drained corpse of a vampire victim from another? Besides, this cunt had just tried to kill him, and as he was hungry anyway…

A sudden pain stopped him cold before he even bent his head. Confused, his senses screaming danger, he looked down at his chest through a hazy cloud of agony.

The tip of a wooden stake protruded from the already gory, shredded mess of his t-shirt.

"In case you are wondering, I missed your heart on purpose."

His eyes glazing slightly, Spike looked up with an effort. He wasn't surprised to see the bespectacled, tweedy Brit from the earlier in the night standing over him.

"You see," the man went on matter-of-factly, "I've been doing some research. I know exactly who you are, now, all the things you've done, the innocents you've slaughtered…I'm not going to kill you, now. You will be taken back to England to council headquarters, and there you'll be questioned about your history…and exactly what you did to the slayer back in L.A. When your usefulness is at an end, you'll be destroyed – and believe me, your death will not be an easy one if you do not cooperate now. You will die anyway, but it will be swift and final. You can save yourself the pain. Of course, you understand why I hope you will decide to be difficult."

"If you hurt her, I'll bloody finish you," Spike snarled at him.

That threw the watcher completely off-guard.

Without warning, Spike lunged up and out, ignoring the pain in his chest. He grabbed the man under his arms and flung him onto his back on the ground. He was lifting a hand and awkwardly tearing the stake from his chest when his ears caught the unexpected revving of an engine, and he turned around, blinded by the high-powered headlights that caught him full blast in the eyes.

The crunching blow seemed to come out of nowhere. He never even had a chance to move before he was flying through the air. Somehow he twisted in the air before he landed, and ended up skidding to the end of the alley on his face…

And then suddenly, _she_ was there.

"Oh, my god! _Spike?_!"

* * *

_To be continued in Chapter Nine…(posted)_

_Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!_

_A/N: Sorry, this chapter ran over quite a bit, so I had to divide it into three - THREE! –chapters. The teaser with Cordelia from last chappie will be in chapter **ten**, which I'm still editing, but nine is already posted. Thanks for reading, and MANY thanks for the award nominations! - Dev_


	9. Chapter Nine

_Broken Origin II - Chapter Nine

* * *

_

"Oh , my god! _Spike_?!"

Gentle hands were on him, slowly lifting him. Spike's skin stung with bloody friction burns on his hands and face, and he hissed as his raw cheek brushed against Buffy's shirt – strike that, _his_ bleedin' shirt. The hole in his chest had stopped hurting quite as badly, but the truly disturbing thing was that he could feel blood slowly oozing from the wound.

"Spike? Are you okay?" she was whispering urgently, holding his weight up, trying to look into his face.

"What the hell is she doing?" one of the hunter's asked out loud. They clearly thought she was crazy.

"He killed your family, Buffy!" her watcher shouted across the alley in exasperation. "He's a vampire! You can't trust him – one day he'll get tired of playing house and turn on you!"

Spike leaned against a wall, not knowing where he found the strength to keep upright, other than knowing he'd rather be staked again than let anyone know just how well they'd succeeded in working him over. He couldn't quite keep his chin up, though – kept dropping just like a bloody great stone to his chest as he fought to stay conscious.

The slayer surprised him by stepping up to him and touching a careful fingertip to the deep grazes along his sharp cheekbone and chin.

He looked at her warily from beneath his lashes as she lifted his chin. Her green eyes were sharp as they drifted over his face, settling briefly on the raw, bloody scrapes from he'd landed on the alley pavement on his face and ended skidding on it for a good thirty feet.

"Buffy," he tried to talk to her, but his mind was going all sluggish, and his demon had sprung up during all the action, and had yet to leave him though he tried to will it away. It was just as well, it reckoned. It'd be too hard right now to talk around his fangs without sounding like a second-year with a bad lisp, anyway.

"What did they do to you?" Her hand had found the blood staining the front of his shirt, and the ragged hole left by the watcher's council hunter regulation stake – the one that had barely missed his heart.

Stunned by the amount of choked concern in her lowered voice, he quickly searched out her eyes, and suddenly wanted to kill the council hunters all over again just for putting that pained look on her pale, thin face.

"Miss Summers, did you hear him? He killed your family!" an unknown voice called out.

Buffy's eyes were glittering with angry, unshed tears as she looked down at the sticky red blood staining her fingers. She looked ready to do murder.

Spike gave her a minute shake of his head. He knew what she was thinking. Hell, he was thinking along the same lines, but in this instance, any kind of revenge was a dish best served cold. He swallowed, and forced out one quiet word.

"Don't."

Buffy's hand was shaking as she stared at it, but her voice was hard and steady on as she spun around in the headlights and addressed the hunters beyond them.

"Two vampires in L.A. killed my family – and they're dust. Spike _is_ my family, now. If I ever catch any of you trying to stake him again…" she shook her head, her voice trembling with her fury. "Believe me when I say I'll make you hurt in places you never even knew you had."

Shocked silence reigned in the pre-dawn air as the Slayer turned back to the vampire, and carefully moved under his arm.

Spike allowed himself to be supported for a moment before he abruptly shrugged her off.

The watcher called out a protest when he realized they were leaving, and Spike raised his hand and flipped the man off without breaking stride or looking back.

* * *

"He's right, you know," Spike made a point of telling her back at the crypt.

Frowning in the middle of her bandaging, the Slayer squinted at the ugly gouges on his face in the light of the lone candelabra and gave him a swift glance before unrolling another length of gauze from the large first aid kit on her lap.

"We really gotta' get more light in here," she said offhandedly. "Who's right?"

"The watcher." Spike drew in a sharp breath and held it, gritting his teeth as she casually stuck a finger in the hole in his t-shirt and used it to rip down his front.

"Sorry," she said apologetically as she yanked the sides apart, and jerked them down his arms. "What about Giles?"

"I will turn on you someday," he told her seriously, looking at her carefully through his lashes as she held up a small bottle of peroxide. "Hell, I have turned on you. I am evil; it's inevitable. An' if I don't, I guarantee you I'll leave."

She paused, but then went on, looking unconcerned as she twisted the bottle's cap off. "I'm not worried about it," she bluffed.

Spike's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Oh, you aren't are you? Well, y'bloody well should be! Don't think I would?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Duh. Of course I do. You forget, I've experienced you at your worst. Despite what you might think of me, I don't think of you as some puppy I brought home and house trained." She actually smiled at him then, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "I know you still bite. I've got the bruises to prove it."

"You don't know my worst," he shot back darkly, but she only shook her head.

"Let me worry about it, okay?"

Spike made a face at her puppy comparison then, but decided to let the subject go as she tilted the bottle towards his chest. He arched backwards against the cold crypt wall, his abs trembling. "Forget the disinfectant and just throw a couple of plasters over it, will you? I'm dead already, y'know – s'not like I have to worry about fevers n' infections."

The slayer sat up straight, blowing strands of hair out of her eyes as she scowled at him. "A couple of band-aids aren't going to do anything for you either, Spike. There's a hole the size of my fist, here, and it's still kind of – _yuck_ – bleeding. Or oozing…I dunno. Do vampires bleed? Is it a lack of blood pressure thing?"

"I've had worse , Slayer. Stop mothering me and go down and see if you can dig out another shirt for me." He made a movement as if to get up, but she planted a warm hand on the space between his neck and shoulder and pushed him back down.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to strip me of all modesty," Spike complained. "Will'ya quit fussin'? M'fine."

"You always say that. And you don't have any modesty, Spike." She bent towards his chest again and sighed. "There are like, wood splinters in here, anyway. That can't be comfortable. The peroxide will help wash them out…I think. Stop being such a baby, Big Bad, and suck it up."

"I'll suck somethin' in a minute, alright," he growled, looking pointedly at her throat. Rolling his eyes, he gave another impatient growl disguised as a sigh and dropped his head back on the chair, staring resolutely at the ceiling.

Wincing, she turned the bottle over…

* * *

Rupert Giles approached the crypt where the vampire and the slayer had entered several minutes before, and was peering at the door in the darkness when a loud roar shook the night.

_"Arrrgh!__ Sonofabitch, Slayer! Fuck!"_

Jumping away from the steel door in surprise, he looked the stone façade over, wondering what in the world could possibly –

"_Sweet sodding Christ!_ Ought to kill you with your own bloody stake right now, d'you know that?!"

Alarmed, Giles had his hand on the entrance when, unbelievably, he heard a loud feminine giggle.

"All done, and you were so brave, _Spikey_. Too bad I'm all out of lollipops."

"_Rrrrr_. Think it's funny, now, do you? M'serious as a heart-attack, love. I could jab the business end of that splinter of yours right through your sternum, and pluck that bratty lil' heart of yours off the point just like a crushed, overripe plum. Lay you back over my arm an' suck it out through your bleedin' _neck_ – "

The giggle turned into all-out cackling, hysterical laughter.

"God, I can't believe how much of a cold, cruel-hearted bitch you are," came the first voice again on a ragged sigh, sounding just plain wretched this time. "Don't know why I suffer you bein' around me. _Damn_ that stings."

"Aw, poor Spikey had a boo-boo – want me to blow on it?"

"Oh, I'll give you something to _blow_ on, you bloody sadist – "

Giles's eyebrows shot up, and he wasted no time in knocking soundly on the heavy steel door, and wrenching it open. He dashed inside only to find himself facing another door, and he yanked that open as well. The scene that met him inside didn't match the one he'd been picturing outside.

"Giles!" Buffy blurted, red staining her cheeks as she launched herself up from the floor.

"Oh, bloody hell," the vampire was grumbling from his seat on a stone tomb. "Just what I needed."

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked angrily. "Did you follow us?!"

"He-he was going to attack you!" Giles said breathlessly.

She looked surprised. "Who? Spike? Nah, he's just like a stray dog – I fed him once – well, unwillingly – and now I just can't seem to get rid of him," she joked.

"Watch it, Slayer," the vampire warned from his perch, his now-blue eyes slitted. "Won't be down for long."

Buffy shrugged, but left off teasing him, Giles noted. She seemed wary of him…and probably rightfully so.

Giles took a deep breath, and walked right up to the vampire. "I'm Buffy's watcher, Rupert Giles."

* * *

Spike disdained the other man's reluctantly proffered hand. "Yeah, haven't we met, mate? Don't I remember you tryin' to kill me about thirty minutes ago?" He made a show of reaching beside him, and lighting a cigarette, and lifted a brow at Buffy over 'Tweedy's' shoulder. Her prompting frown made him roll his eyes. He looked at the watched through hooded eyes, and pursed his lips as he – barely – inclined his head. "Right. Meeting you has sent me into grand spasms of pleasure, m'sure," he muttered with a liberal dose of bitter sarcasm.

To his satisfaction, the other man immediately drew back. He looked at the slayer as if to say, "_This_ is what you were defending so fiercely back there?"

"Buffy, I don't know what he wants from you, but you can't trust him. _He_ is a vampire. _You_ are the Slayer, therefore – "

"Oh, I know this one! 'Slaying entails certain sacrifices, blah, blah, bliddy blah, I'm so stuffy, give me a scone.'" She shook her head. "Forget it, Giles. I'm not giving Spike up."

"Well, may I ask why the bloody hell _not_?"

"I told you already. We…understand each other. We're…friends?"

Spike coughed loudly into his hand and the slayer glared at him over her shoulder. The cough miraculously disappeared.

"_Friendship_," the watcher spat. "Vampires are not interested in friendship, Buffy. Why don't you ask him what he's _really_ after?"

She sighed angrily. "He's not 'after' anything – are you, Spike?" She turned and looked up at him expectantly.

Spike's face was totally without expression. "'Course not, love," he purred as he slipped his hand down one denim-clad thigh and then hooked his thumb in the waist of his jeans, letting his long fingers sprawl suggestively over his fly.

He watched intently as the slayer turned hot pink and she quickly turned back to the watcher. "See?" she choked out.

"He's _after_ getting in your trousers, is what he's _after_!" The watcher blurted out unexpectedly, and his cheeks suddenly matched the slayer's, who gaped at him. Spike mocked him while she wasn't looking. He smiled lopsidedly, wiggling his brows, and ran the tip of his tongue indecently over the sharp points of his incisors as he dropped his eyes meaningfully to the slayer's neck. He made a slight snapping motion with his jaws, and let his eyes flicker to gold for just a moment before the slayer turned back to him, and he made his expression go flat again.

The wanker sputtered, but Buffy wasn't as taken in by him as Spike may have assumed. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, and smacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand. "Knock it off, Spike."

Spike only gave a low, evil chuckle and lifted a hand to rub his much-abused abdomen.

The watcher, meanwhile, motioned violently at the slayer. "May I speak to you in private?"

"Well, well, well…someone in this room certainly thinks the sun shines out of their bum, don't they?"

Buffy growled under her breath.

Spike grinned.

"Hang on, Giles," she said, and headed for the open trap in the floor. She climbed down, and when she returned a few tense minutes later, she was carrying an old, cracked mug that Spike recognized as being one of two she'd brought with her from the watcher's apartment, along with all the other junk in her knapsack. The mug carried the scent of blood, and he knew she'd emptied a bag of the small emergency stash he'd stolen nights ago from the hospital and left to keep cool in the icy cold run of water in a small crevice in the rocky ground below. The blood was chilly, and stale, but it smelled of heaven to him right now.

The slayer carried the mug over to him, ignoring the shocked look she was receiving from her watcher – that was when he realized she actually meant to feed him. The homey-ness of the situation nearly made him squirm with discomfort. She started to tip the cup to his lips, but he caught her wrist and cleared his throat. "Slayer…I'd rather drink it by my own hand."

She looked slighted for a moment, and then she surrendered the cup.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

Spike gave her a slight smirk, and then took a gulp of the cool, slightly slimy liquid. The texture didn't matter just then, though…

"What is that you're drinking? Blood?" the watcher asked, trying to sound casual.

Spike rolled his eyes and finished the mug off in one huge gulp, savoring the coppery tang coating his tongue.

"No, it's cream tea – what d'you think? 'Course s'blood you ninny."

The watcher's cool blue eyes brightened in sudden interest. "Really? You can survive off cold blood? Interesting…can you exist solely on, say, pig's blood?"

Spike tilted his head at him. "You can ask some other vampire – if you can find one that won't eat you first and ask questions later."

The watcher's interest in him abruptly cooled.

Satisfied by his reaction, Spike set the cup down on the stone slab and pushed himself off, ignoring the stab of pain that went through his shoulder and chest at the movement. "Well, m'headin' down to grab a nap – gotta' rest so I can hunt some more tasty townie's tonight, eh? Thanks for the snack, Slayer." Spike ignored the look of dismay from the slayer and smirked at her watcher instead as he moved towards the trap door.

"Oh, and by the way – tell your boys to fall back, get out of town. If I see 'em 'round here again, I'll bite their bloody faces off."

* * *

Buffy stared after Spike when he closed the trap door, her face set in lines of dismay.

"You-you allow him to feed off other humans? You can't be the slayer, you-you're an abomination!"

Buffy glanced at him tiredly before retrieving the mug and fetching a large bottle of water from the pack to rinse it out.

"He's a vampire, Giles, and he drinks blood. Besides, he doesn't kill anymore…" _I hope, anyway…_

"How do you know? Are you with him every moment of every night? Why, he could be killing innocent people!"

"Spike and I have an understanding, now. He doesn't kill, and I don't stake him. Most people don't even remember what happens after, he said."

"How can you trust this _creature_?"

"Listen, Spike has saved my life more times than I can count since my parents died. He may have done it for his own selfish reasons, but still… He trained me, taught me to look out for myself, which is more than I can say for this 'council' of yours. You couldn't even find me after I was kidnapped."

Giles blanched at that. "It was a most unfortunate…well, circumstances…I understand that Mr. Merrick did not – "

"Whatever. Point is? Spike's with me. Right now, he is fighting with me, instead of against me. He cares about what happens to me…well, sometimes, anyway…well, maybe never, but, end of story. Can I go to sleep, now?"

Giles swiped a shaky hand across his brow. "Would you happen to have any of that tea that I sent with you left over?"

* * *

It was dawn, now, and Buffy's eyelids were growing heavy as she sat with her equally tired watcher over two steaming mug's of Earl Grey – thanks to the canned heat and tiny battered kettle she'd retrieved from the pack.

"You…you _killed_ a Guaroknarl?" Giles suddenly interrupted her droning narrative of what had happened to her since she'd left L.A., his voice faint.

"Oh. Well, yeah…two, actually."

Giles upset his tea. "T-two?!" he burbled, swiping at his undone tie and now-wrinkled shirtfront with his kerchief.

"What?" Buffy frowned at him. "It's not like they're hard to kill…I mean, once you get past the horns and tail, it's really just a matter of kicking it's ass – literally."

"That's very, er…nice. It's just that…well, I've been given to understand that Guaroknarl's are very rarely seen above ground." Giles cracked a hesitant, sheepish smile. "I rather think I'd have liked to have seen one."

"Count yourself lucky you didn't have to _smell_ like one," Buffy told him, making a face. Suddenly she was starving, and the plain tea was doing nothing for it. She uncrossed her legs where she sat on top of a plaid wool throw Giles had went out and brought in for her from his car – he'd been appalled at her living conditions – and crossed over to the 'miracle-pack' again, this time pulling out a small cup of instant ramen noodles.

Giles, who looked a little absurd sitting on a throw on the floor of the crypt in his rumpled three-piece suit, with his legs crossed, and his back against the wall, gave her a stern glance as she approached with her treasure.

"Buffy, I do hope that you'll recall I gave you that supply as a temporary fix. I fully expect you to come to dinner every evening, at the very least, before our training and your patrolling. One cannot exist on all that starch and sodium alone."

Buffy tore the top off the paper cup, poured boiling water in from the kettle, and sniffed appreciatively. "It's heaven," she told him on a blissful sigh.

"_Hot_ food…mmm, I can't wait." She managed a few minutes, and then took a careful sip, almost burning her tongue in her eagerness.

"So…I bet you're gonna' insist I stop training with Spike, now, too?" she finally asked Giles carefully.

"No bit of learning is ever wasted." Giles looked grudging even as he said this. "And I must admit, Spike's past…experiences may prove helpful to you in coming battles."

"Will you get in trouble with the council?" Buffy asked, watching him closely. Giles acted a little snobbish, but she was starting to like him a little – even though he'd nearly skewered Spike.

"Undoubtedly," Giles sighed, and his eyes twinkled a little as he smiled at her.

His face went very serious, though, a second later, as if some awful thought had occurred to him.

"Giles? What is it?"

"Buffy…there are some things about Spike that you should be made aware of. Things…he's done in the past."

"I don't think I wanna' hear this," she said, setting down her soup.

"Nonetheless, you shall," Giles said firmly. "You must know what he is capable of." He took off his glasses and looked at the floor before continuing.

"First of all, his name – William the Bloody. He first earned this name towards the end of the nineteenth century…"

Buffy felt real tears in her eyes as Giles finally finished his lecture.

"He…really did all those things? He killed all those potentials back in World War II? They were just…children. And the Slayers. He's…God, he's a monster, more than I even knew…" Buffy got up and paced a slow circle around the crypt on rubbery legs.

"Buffy I didn't tell you this to turn you against him," Giles told her, wincing slightly as he, too, rose, his joints protesting the damp cold.

Buffy looked at him doubtfully.

"Well, all right, I did, but perhaps I shouldn't have told you in this manner, at least."

"He _deserves_ to be staked," she whispered, ducking her head. "God, why am I crying? I didn't even cry when I killed my Mom," she sniffed with a slight laugh.

"You're disappointed in him," Giles said, his chest aching at her sadness.

Buffy swiped her sleeve across her eyes and caught sight of Spike's blood staining the front of the shirt. She stared at it before she sighed shakily and looked at Giles.

Her resolute silence said more than she ever could have explained to him, in words.

* * *

_To be continued in Chapter Ten…_

_Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!_

_A/N: Thanks for reading…!_


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Broken Origin II

-000-

_Chapter Ten_

-000-

Even though Spike was officially attempting to teach her how to shoot the crossbow Buffy held in her hands, very little of her mind was on the lesson. She could tell her distracted state was driving Spike nuts, but how could she concentrate on anything else when he was pressed so close?

She guessed all she could do was be grateful that Giles would be returning as soon as the sun set. He'd left for a few hours sleep and a shower after he'd helped her set up a makeshift target atop one of the crypt walls, and thoroughly examined Spike's crossbow.

"Well, it's new...lifted from some poor shopkeepers shelf somewhere, no doubt," he'd announced disgustedly as he put the weapon back down.

She hadn't failed to miss the faintly jealous look in his eyes as he practically fondled the shiny new weapon.

Ugh, _men_.

"Are you certain this is what you want, Buffy?" He'd looked around the crypt pointedly, but she'd known he'd meant a lot of things, asking that.

At the time, she'd shaken her head yes, reasoning that Spike was her best bet in defeating the monsters of Sunnydale...and he was, but...

God, how could she still be attracted to him! She should be disgusted by him, should hate the very sight of him -

"The target is up here, love, _not_ on the bloody ground."

Buffy grimaced. "Sorry."

"Just pull back the trigger like I showed you," he commanded impatiently. "Keep your aim steady."

"M-maybe you should show me again," Buffy said doubtfully, aware that while she hadn't hit the target even one time, Spike had struck the bull's-eye with every single shot.

"Just concentrate," he snapped.

"I'm trying," she snapped back.

Spike sighed near her ear, sending the skin tingling. "Just concentrate on it until there's nothin' else. Now…breathe steady."

_Yeah, like that was gonna' happen with him standing so near…!_

Buffy was so on edge by the time he called it quits, she ended up dropping the crossbow while she was practicing loading and unloading it, and nearly speared Spike with one of the bolts.

Scrambling to pick the sophisticated-looking weapon off the floor, she winced as she looked up to see Spike giving her his death's-head glare, and plucking a steel dart from where it had lodged itself in the crumbling mortar of the wall beside him, taking with it a piece of his black shirt-sleeve.

"Sorry," she said as he ran a thumb over the blood welling from a neat slice in his tautly-muscled upper arm. She offered him a little smile, and he growled.

"Good thing we don't have those wooden bolts, yet, huh?" she said lightly as she came back up, flipping her pony-tail behind her.

"Yeah," he he muttered, holding the sharp bolt tightly in one fist, and staring at her with disturbing purpose for a very long moment before he carelessly tossed it down with a metallic scrape on the top of a concrete tomb lid.

Buffy lost her breath as she watched him turn away and saunter across the crypt, absently bringing up his blood-stained fingers to lick them clean. She had to force her mouth to shut.

God, she was sick! Sick, sick, _sick_ - !

"Spike?"

"What?" he didn't pause as he picked up a blanket - _her_ blanket - and ripped a ribbon of fabric from it.

Buffy rolled her eyes, but didn't bother protesting. They had more important things to talk about.

"Giles, and ...well, we had a talk...about you, this morning."

Spike sighed sufferingly as he twisted the fabric around the wound on his upper arm and turned to look at her. "Yeah, so what's your point?"

Crossing her arms, she forced her eyes to stay steady on his.

"So? Did you really do those...things? Before?"

Spike went very still. "Dunno. I've done lots of things, Slayer."

Buffy swallowed painfully. "The...the Potentials? The girls?"

The vampire actually looked a little confused for a minute before his eyes lit up in recognition. He stared at her, completely unrepentant. "Yeah. All that...and more."

Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away from Spike's. She'd thought hearing about his past from Giles had been bad, but hearing it confirmed by Spike himself, and seeing how totally unmoved by it he was - it was devastating.

Spike jolted her when he snorted. "Still did 'those things' less than three months ago, pet."

_'Oh, God...'_

It was a good thing, then, that she was learning to handle devastation pretty damn well by now.

"You want details?" Spike startled her by asking coldly. His eyes were narrowed, a vibrant, icy blue outlined by dark lashes she couldn't believe belonged to a dead man.

Buffy swallowed and finally managed to look away. She gave her head a faint shake and focused on a nasty foundation crack in one of the walls of the crypt. She didn't need any more details. Between what he'd threatened to do to her back in L.A., and what Giles had spilled to her that morning, she had an all too vivid picture-book image in her head.

Again she asked herself why she should feel so betrayed, so shocked. She knew what he was. The knowledge that he had almost succeeded in annihilating every potential slayer back in the nineteen-forties told her that. He'd killed - no, _slaughtered_ - children. Girls up to six years younger than her, their families, their watchers...

Buffy drew in a deep breath. "So...that third Slayer?"

Spike didn't blink. "Second, if you wanna get all technical. Yeah, I bagged her, too. Danish chit, gave me a bit of a time - an' her keeper. Old hag had it on for me, too. Dru had fun with that one - somethin' about the eyes of a Seer..."

"That's why it was ...unconfirmed," Buffy murmured, rubbing her jaw with an unsteady hand. She felt sick. "You killed her Watcher, too."

Across from her, Spike shrugged. "Didn't kill her, really. Went mad, last I saw her. Sure, it was unfortunate - never could put a real claim on that one, but I never concerned m'self too much about it. After all, all I have is time," he drawled arrogantly, cocking his head to one side as he gave her a meaningful once-over.

When Buffy didn't respond with anything, he took a long stride nearer to her. She didn't move, knowing he was trying to draw a reaction from her.

"We gonna get physical about this, Slayer?"

Her eyes flew up to meet his, and then nervously skittered away again. "I-I don't know. No... not...not now," she stammered quietly.

"So," he began in a light, yet knowing tone, "_that's _how it's gonna be. 'The enemy of my enemy' an' all that rot? Use me 'til ya get rid of the immediate threat, and then stake me right 'n proper when my usefulness is over?"

Buffy heard him snort, and when she looked up again, he had turned away from her. She frowned as she watched his run his fingers through his hair, and wondered why in the world _he_ sounded like _she_ was feeling.

Confused, betrayed...

Maybe she should remind him he wasn't _supposed_ to care if she was using him...God, he was the weirdest vampire she'd ever met.

_'And I'm the stupidest Slayer ever for caring _anything_ about him, so we're probably a matched pair,' _Buffy thought to herself wryly.

-000-

Later that evening, Spike and Giles stood in the cemetery, watching Buffy in action several yards away.

It had to be a first in the entire history of the world - and a certain sign of a coming apocalypse - that a vampire and a Watcher were seen working together for a common good...but that might have been going a bit too far, Giles thought to himself with a grim and wary glance at the creature to his right.

Spike was enjoying the show, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched his girl draw out the kill of the vampire she was battling, well aware that she was showing off for the Watcher.

The girl may not be much to look at at, but she was turnin' out to be one hell of a fighter - all thanks to him, o' course...now if he could just get her to stop bein' so bloody clumsy...

He whistled lowly in appreciation at a complicated kick-punch-sweep combination before he pulled his smokes from his pocket and lit up. He hopped up onto the top of a stone tomb and lay down on his back, drawing one knee up as he made himself comfortable and looked at the night sky.

"I must admit," the Wanker was muttering, "her skills at this stage are rather remarkable, considering she hasn't really had any formal training."

Spike craned his neck around to look at the slayer, who'd attracted a couple of more fledgling vamps, one of which had picked up a length of rusted re-bar from somewhere. He gave a short laugh. "Yeah, she's tricky, alright...look at that," he commented lazily. "See how she staked the two of 'em with that thing?"

The two very confused vampires were stuck together by the re-bar the slayer had thrust through their respective ribcages, and had no choice but to stand, struggling, in one spot while she produced her sword and cut their head off.

Hooting at the sight, Spike gave a contented 'just so' nod and rested his head on the stone again, his satisfaction clear in his voice when he spoke again. "Yep, baby likes to play - resourceful, my Slayer, ain't she?"

"She's not 'your' Slayer, Spike," Giles said warningly.

Spike arched a scarred brow in challenge. "Right, then - ask her who she belongs to," he told him smugly, possessiveness burning in his eyes.

"She's a child."

"A _child_," Spike repeated insolently. "Yeah, a sixteen-year-old 'child' who's killed more in the past week than most vampires I know."

"Demons, Spike, she'd killed demons. And that is her duty. A duty she has obviously been lacking in, in places, of late." Giles eyed him pointedly.

Spike's skin drew tight against the slashes of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw as his expression hardened. "Oh, right. You think she shoulda' offed me by now, eh? Must be puttin' some kind of awful twist in your knickers, the fact that I'm still wanderin' free because of her." A sudden inspiration struck him, and his lips curved into a gleeful smile in the darkness as he warmed to his subject.

"Know what? Never thought about it, really, but it must be givin' you nightmares, eh? Bet you been up all-hours, worryin' about the big, bad vampire, and if he's got his cold, dirty hands all over the Chosen One's lily-white skin."

"She knows what you've done to girl's her age - and younger!" Giles sputtered, outraged. "She knows what you are capable of doing to her!"

Spike's grin dropped away as he brought up the now strangely troubling subject.

"She's been with me a while now, mate," he said indifferently. "'Course she knows."

"She _knows_ because I told her - because it was _my_ duty to warn her about you," Giles elaborated.

"Warn her _away_ from me, don't you mean," Spike growled. "So, what exactly did you tell her?"

"Everything."

So...that was why she'd been all _Twenty-Question's _earlier.

Spike took a deep drag on his cigarette. "Good," he inclined his head a little, and then looked up to pin the other man with a narrowed, glittering stare. "She knows not to expect too much from me, then."

The watcher fixed him with a frosty glare.

"Just so you know, the Slayer 'n me - we got an understanding, see. It's just as well we got no secrets between us, now. I have a healthy respect for her, she doesn't try to stake me - especially now I've lost more than a little skin lookin' after her ass."

Giles looked at him with outright suspicion. "But you don't trust each other?"

Spike lifted his head just enough to look at him as if to say just how stupid that question had been.

"Then, just how would you describe your role in Buffy's life?" Giles made a face, as if he couldn't quite believe he, himself, was even asking. "Do you see yourself as a ...a father figure, of sorts?"

"What!" Spike choked on his inhalation, and darted upright, actually fumbling and dropping the cigarette in his lap. "Bloody hell!" He scowled at the watcher as he burnt his fingers rescuing the folds of his duster from the bright orange cinders.

"It's a simple question," Giles went on, as if he hadn't just given Spike the worst kind of insult. "Do you...have a father's...lo - er, I hesitate to even use the word 'fondness'," he mumbled, "but it is obvious that she feels...safe with you..."

Spike made a revolted-looking face.

Giles matched it, line for line.

"That is to say, I haven't spent much time with Buffy as of yet, but - "

"Hell, no!" Spike exclaimed defensively, before he could go on. His vampire's ego was still smarting badly enough as it was over the whole 'safe' thing. "I'd describe my feelings towards the slayer more 'homicidal' than fatherly! Girl's enough to make a bleedin' saint swear - and I ain't joking, neither. When the mood comes on her, she'll slip away whenever I have a lie-in, and not show up 'til hours later, lookin' beat all to soddin' shit. Then she'll find the most uncomfortable, jagged bitch of a rock to kip on, then get up a few hours later and do it all over again. If I even blink, she's gone!"

Spike paused in his ranting, and lowered himself back to the tomb lid. He stared at the stars and took a rather desperate draw on the cigarette before before giving his head a shake. "Bitch drives me to raving."

Giles rolled his eyes as he was forced to dodge a violent flick of ashes, but then asked, "Wait...you actually find yourself worrying about her well-being?" He looked fascinated by the idea.

Spike shifted uncomfortably before turning his head on the cold stone to look at the watcher. "'Course I don't - I mean, me, vampire, her, Slayer - it's be twisted, wouldn't it? I'd be an abomination, or something - or a bigger one, least-wise. It's just...just really irritating, y'know, her popping in 'n out all-hours, is all. Not knowin' where she is plays hell with a bloke's love life, know what I mean? Feel like a bloody sitter, sometimes - 'cept I ain't gettin' paid." He flicked his cigarette butt away and growled in frustration as he reached out above him as if to cup some impressively large imaginary breasts. "Ah, sweet christ, do you know how long it's been since I had my hands on a pair of tits?"

"Yes, well, no need to elaborate," Giles coughed uncomfortably. "Needless to say, this just completely proves my point."

Spike looked at him warily. "Which is...?"

"Apart from you being the confirmed bachelor type, _and_ an awful role-model for a teenage girl - Buffy should come to live with me, in my flat. It's well-furnished, and, dare I say, a sight more welcoming to a young girl than that - that crypt of yours. There is an abundance of space, and it's well-within walking distance of the school. She'll receive the training she needs - "

"Bugger off," Spike said flatly, surprising even himself with what he was about to say.

"I beg your pardon - " Giles began hotly.

"I said, forget it, Watcher. You're not gettin' it, are you? The Slayer was your - and your 'council's' - responsibility once before. Just look at how how well you lot bollocksed it up last time. She'd be dead by now if I hadn't somehow managed to take a shine to her. There's no way I'm lettin' you get her killed after everything she's managed to live through this far. She stays with me."

"Very well," said Giles reluctantly after a few tense moments. "For the time-being. The very _short_ time-being."

"Look, if you're worried about me takin' advantage of her, don't. I'm not into ugly ducklings."

The watcher glared at him. "I may remind you, Buffy's current...emaciated appearance is is due in part to you. If you'll recall, the ugly duckling becomes a beautiful swan at the end of the story - " he narrowed his eyes at Spike's skeptic snort - "but we are straying from the point again. Should you harm her - "

"Yeah, yeah, you'll stake me n' what-not."

"Good memory seems to be one of your many dubious virtues, Spike. Since Buffy seems to be rather - _oddly_ - "

"Oi!"

" - attatched to you, I hope, for her sake, that it doesn't come to that. Just keep in mind, Spike, that a snake without it's fangs can do little harm."

Spike lit up another cigarette and watched the other man walk over to the slayer with a dark expression.

So, the Watcher wasn't as soft as he seemed. He seemed fiercely protective of the girl already. Looked like he was one to be wary of...as if he didn't have enough to keep him constantly on edge.

He had a feeling this was all going to end badly.

-000-

Buffy was very surprised when Xander and Willow showed up at Giles's door later that night. She'd left Spike for a while on her watcher's insistence that she come and have a proper meal, and shower - but she'd still rushed through it all, her conscience nagging her. She was waiting for her clothes to dry in Giles's dryer, all-but drowning in the watchers navy blue bathrobe, when the knocker sounded on the door.

Willow was standing there, a pile of shopping bags in her arms, her friendly brown eyes peeking at her over the colorful paper. "Hi!" she called out cheerfully, trying to wave.

Xander cleared his throat next to her, and she saw him there with a tightly rolled red sleeping bag and more bags.

Giles walked up behind her just then, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, drying his hands with a tea towel. "Willow, Xander, hello - ah, I see you brought the things I asked for, excellent. Come in, come in, just put them on the table, here."

Buffy moved to one side as the two filed in and gratefully dropped their burdens. She looked over the rustling bags as Willow adjusted them, to keep them from falling off the side table, and looked at Giles suspiciously as Xander dug in one baggy corduroy pocket and handed him what looked like a shiny silver credit card.

"What's all this?" she asked, bemused.

Giles tucked the card away in his wallet and flushed slightly. "Ahem, yes, well..."

"It's just some clothes and stuff Giles asked us to get for you - and don't worry, I got somebody else's help picking out your clothes," Willow said ruefully, plucking at her own white t-shirt and plaid jumper shorts, which wouldn't have looked out-of-place on a five-year-old.

Buffy smiled and shook her head at the other girl. "You guys did all this for me?"

"Well, you did kinda' save our lives," Xander jumped in, looking slightly bashful, standing there with his hands in his pockets, his hair hiding most of his eyes.

"Not that we wouldn't have done it anyway," Willow blurted.

Buffy didn't know what to say. "Thanks."

Xander nodded, Willow beamed. "You're welcome."

Giles cleared his throat. "Won't you both stay and have supper? I dare-say, with the way Buffy picked at her food, there's more than enough left for the two of you."

"Thanks, but we already ate," Willow said with a timid smile. "Xander's mom ordered Chinese...again." She looked at Buffy with a secretive nudge.

"Hey, _nobody_ can dial for take-out like my mom," Xander said defensively.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Actually, we wanted to know if Buffy wanted to come to the Bronze with us."

"'The Bronze'?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"Yeah, there's supposed to be a new band there tonight, so it might actually be worth the cover for once," Xander supplied, giving the dust-covers over Giles's furniture a semi-curious glance.

Buffy froze for a second. A club? As in a social event? As in social interaction? As in actually talking to other people?

Buffy looked at Giles with a flash of panic in her eyes. "I don't know..."

"Go on," the watcher said kindly. "It will be good for you...and also a good way for you to patrol. Clubs are notorious feeding grounds for vampires."

Willow and Xander went pale.

Buffy took pity on them. "Hey, sure, it sounds great! We'll be right back!" She grabbed the bags and Willow's hand and dragged her down the hall to Giles's bedroom.

-000-

The Bronze wasn't anything like the clubs she'd gone to in L.A. - it was kind of a dive, actually, but she found she really liked the dark, smokey atmosphere. It kinda' reminded her of -

"Spike!" Willow yelped at her side.

Xander jumped a mile, and looked around frantically. "Where?"

"Here," came a familiar amused voice right behind him.

"Gah!" Xander yelled, and whipped around and then noticed the stares he was attracting. He took a deep breath and glared at the vampire. "Would you stop sneaking up on people like that!"

Spike looked at him disdainfully. "Why should I? How else am I supposed to get my kicks in this dump of a town? Fellow'd have more fun diggin' out of his own grave - an' I would know."

Buffy covered her eyes with her hand and Willow and Xander looked at each other helplessly.

"Not to worry, though. Things'll be livening up quite a bit, soon enough." Spike paused and turned his head a little, to look Buffy over.

She tensed up, knowing that while she wasn't looking her best, she still looked better than she had since she'd met him - she'd twisted her hair up, put in a pair of dangly, flirty earrings - she was even wearing a little make-up, with a bit of careful, clever shading around the scar across her lips and chin.

Spike's eyebrow rose. "Nice dress, Slayer," he said quietly, making her heart skip, before meeting her eyes with a sneer. "Really brings out the red in your scar."

Hurt dug a deep gouge in her chest, and Buffy felt her throat close even as she fought through her confusion to come up with a nasty comeback - but Spike was already carelessly sauntering away through the crowd.

Buffy gave a shuddering sigh. So much for hoping the scar would go unnoticed.

"Rat-bastard," Xander growled.

Buffy pulled her gaze away from Spike's retreating back and looked at Willow, handing her one of the bills Giles had tucked into her hand before they'd left. She really needed a moment.

"Could you guys grab us some cokes? Cherry for me?"

Xander shrugged. "I'm okay. I'll stay here with y - "

"Um, sure, Buffy." Willow took a protesting Xander by the arm and dragged him away.

If Buffy had been expecting to have a minute to herself, she was about to be sorely disappointed. Almost as soon as her 'protectors' left her side, a tanned brunette walked up to her, openly eyeing her dress.

Buffy gave her an odd look, but the girl finally looked up and smiled at her. It wasn't a particularly nice smile.

"Hi, you must be Buffy. I'm Cordelia Chase."

When Buffy looked at her blankly, the girl smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. It made Buffy think of a fashionably-dressed shark.

"I helped Willow shop for your clothes today," she continued brightly. "I was going to go to the beach with some friends, but when she told me about you, I couldn't turn her down. I mean, if it wasn't for me, you'd be wearing the softer side of Sears right now, know what I mean? Anyway, anything for a good cause, right?" she trilled lightly.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Buffy swallowed a groan. She'd known girls like this in L.A. - heck, she'd _been_ this girl in L.A.!

"So, you're from Los Angeles, huh?"

"Yeah. I grew up there."

"I'd die to live there! I mean, that close to that many shoes - ! And the guys! Why'd you bother moving _here_?"

"Had to," Buffy smiled numbly.

"Oh? Well, I can see you didn't have a hairdresser - I'd say your style needs updating, but you don't really have one, do you? I'd recommend mine, but he's very exclusive, you know?"

_'And I'm not,' _Buffy finished mentally.

Geez, what a bitch.

Lifting one eyebrow just so, Buffy made a show of looking the other girl's hair over very carefully. "Well, you're obviously not getting your money's worth," she said in an equally friendly-bitchy tone. "You have some major split-ends."

Cordelia's fake smile faded and she blinked before she realized Buffy had just not-so-subtly insulted her back.

Buffy felt almost normal in the noisy club, wearing a dress very close in design to one she'd owned in L.A., verbally sparring with another, more popular girl - she hadn't lost that ability, at least, she was grateful to acknowledge. She could still throwdown with the best of them...but Cordelia Chase wasn't finished with her yet.

"So, I saw you talking to that guy. What's his name again?"

Buffy tried not to look, she really did, but she still ended up turning her head to see Spike leaning against the bar, an amber bottle in hand, already busy chatting up a girl around their age. His clothes were a little out of place with the summer heat, but there was plenty about him that even a girl like Cordelia Chase could forgive his outright non-trendiness.

"Spike."

Cordelia finished looking Spike over with her mercenary gaze, and flicked her eyes back to Buffy.

"He's not my usual type, but he's promising. It's been a slow summer. Willow said you live with him?" The other girl looked at her with speculation.

Buffy looked back across the room at Willow with meaning, and the other girl winced where she stood in line with Xander for drinks. She brushed aside her irritation after a moment, though. Who could blame her? This Cordelia seemed like the type who could weasel anything out of anybody.

"I – er…just in a temporary capacity. A _really_ temporary capacity."

"Hm. Yeah. Well, I gotta' ask. What's it like to be alone in a dark room with him?" Cordelia purred.

_That_ had Buffy wincing.

"Believe me, you don't wanna' know," she settled for saying dryly.

"He is older than you, isn't he?"

_You have no idea._ "Way older."

"Wow. I wish _my_ mom was as lenient as yours obviously is."

Something in her heart went cold and flinty, and Buffy let her voice go frigid.

"My mom doesn't have much choice in the matter. She's dead. Both my parents are, actually," she said flatly.

Cordelia's perfectly lined eyes went dramatically wide. "Oh, my God! You are so _lucky_! I mean, sorry about your parents and all, but you can so totally milk the traumatized, mourning teen angle at school this year!"

Buffy stared at her.

_'Is she for real?'_

"_Hey, Cordy!"_

Cordelia waved at someone over Buffy's head and and then said to her, "So, you don't mind if I talk to your 'friend'?"

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Not at all." _And I hope he bites off your ass - !_

"Thanks." Cordelia gave her one more once over, her dark eyes critical. "You are so lucky Willow came to me first. There's not much to work with, but at least you're dressed for success. Oh, well. See ya'!"

Buffy mentally gagged as she watched the other girl go across the room to hug another, long-haired blond girl with a glorious honey-toned tan she would have sold her right kidney for just then.

"Well, isn't that one just a lovely?" Spike remarked cuttingly as he approached her.

"Yeah, she looks like vamp-bait to me," Buffy said spitefully, her tone threatening.

"Want me to bite her?"

Buffy felt warm for a second, thinking he was defending her, and then she remembered she was _dreaming_!

"Oh, yeah, like it would be such a chore for you," Buffy huffed, crossing her arms. "She's gorgeous," she mumbled, ducking her head and looking at the floor. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see a cockroach limping across it. It had obviously been trod on.

She could commiserate with the insect just then.

"Gorgeous, yeah, but she's a bitch. Don't much like her type."

Buffy laughed in disbelief. "Please. Is there _anything_ you don't like?"

"Angry mobs. I don't like mobs."

"You're kidding."

He ignored her sarcasm. "I'd have known she wasn't worth my time even I hadn't heard her talk first. Alright for a snack, but not a keeper. Looks too high-maintenence, y'know," Spike surprised her by saying.

Buffy looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Her lips quirked. "And your Drusilla wasn't 'high-maintenance'?"

Spike's eyes snapped back to her. "Dru was insane."

Buffy shrugged and looked back at Cordelia. "I don't think it'd take much," she said pointedly. "Show her your fangs - you'll have a new pet in no time."

The muscles in his face drew taut. "Thanks, but m'not interested. Stop posturing, Slayer - you'd never go along with it, anyway," he snapped curtly. "'Sides, you've got bigger problems."

"What do you want, Spike?" She tapped the toe of her shoe. "I know you didn't come over here to chat."

"Angelus is here."

The blood in her veins froze.

"It's alright, he's goin' in the back with some blokes. Business, likely. M'gonna go check it out."

Buffy stared at him, not bothering to hide the fear in her eyes. "Spike..."

"He doesn't know what you look like, remember, Slayer? Just stay here."

"I...I can't. I can't just stand here and...and do nothing..."

"Yeah, you can, and you will." Spike stared at her, and then took her by the shoulders and stared down into her face, frowning. "Just stay here - bloody hell, you're shaking like a leaf."

"I'm fine." Buffy took a deep breath. "What's he look like?"

Spike scowled, but dropped his hands and jerked his head over his shoulder, clearly reluctant. "Little like that," he muttered.

Buffy looked over his shoulder and saw a hot-looking young guy engaged in a serious talk with some rather obvious-looking guys that were clearly vampires, and then tried to look around him. "Where?"

Spike growled, becoming frustrated, his accent becoming more pronounced. "There - the one with the poufy hair."

"Wha - ?"

"You just looked at him, Slayer! Jesus!"

Buffy looked back. "Him!" _It was the hottie!_

_'This is the Scourge-guy?'_

Angelus certainly did live up to his name. He was _really_ good-looking - and that was an understatement. He was just - wow! Tall, and dark, with high cheekbones and deep-set soft brown eyes, and skin that was perfect and milky-white, and flushed pink lips that made a girl dream of kisses...he also wore all black, and it suited him amazingly well...

"Would you stop gawking!" Spike sputtered near her ear. "He's gonna' notice!"

"There's no way," Buffy breathed, still staring.

"What?" Spike barked, looking petulant.

"I have to kill...him? But...but he's so...pretty."

Spike gnashed his teeth and grabbed her chin, making her meet his eyes. "Listen, you stay here, understand? I'll be back soon to get you."

"But, Spike - "

"Hey, what's up?"

They looked up, and saw Willow and Xander striding towards them.

Xander stopped short. "Whoa, tense much?"

Spike ignored him, and sent Buffy an intense look that spoke volumes.

"Just do as I say an' wait here 'til I give the blighter the the slip, right?"

Buffy watched as the blonde vampire strode off, following after Angelus and his group as they were escorted to a private table in the back.

"Wow, who's the guy?" Willow asked next to her, having caught a glimpse of Angelus.

Buffy shook herself and took her drink from Xander. "Oh, nobody special. Just the vampire who wants to kill me."

-000-

Angel smiled disarmingly at the little girl who brought their drinks, and Spike resisted the urge to cave his sire's skull in with heavy base of his neighbors pilsner glass.

"I've been hearing some...disturbing things about you ever since I came into Sunnydale, Spike."

"Ya' don't say," Spike said carefully.

"What's this nonsense I hear about you taking up with a Slayer?"

Spike blanched inwardly, but only shrugged. It had only been a matter of time, after all.

"What of it?"

"What of it? You kill Slayers, you idiot, not take them in as pets!"

Angelus's roars were famous, but Spike only yawned in a bored manner designed to infuriate him further, and watched him with a smirk..

"What the hell kind of game are you playing at now, Spike? You're up to something, and I want to know what it is. You'd better give me a plain answer for once, or I'll flay you- again! If you weren't of my line, I swear I'd have staked you when you were crawling out of your grave. I ought to just kill you now and be done with it."

"Over a Slayer?" Spike asked, playing dumb.

"I don't know her name, or even what she looks like, but I'll find out soon enough, Spike," Angelus said, his hated voice biting off Spike's name in that way that made him want to draw blood.

"If you know she's with me, why haven't you killed her yet? Not scared of her, are you?"

Angelus sneered at him. "William, my boy - don't you remember anything I taught you? Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain."

Spike snorted at that. "Oh, yeah. How _could_ I forget?"

Angelus smiled at him. "I'm taking care of things here, now, Spike. Don't get in my way."

Spike narrowed his eyes as the vampire and the rest of his flunkies got up, and started walking toward the dance floor - looking to feed, likely.

He had to get the Slayer out of here...

Speaking of...Spike looked to the place he'd left her, and cursed. Of course she wasn't there.

"Excuse me, sir? But, who's gonna' pay for all these drinks?"

"Sonofabitch!" Spike grumbled as he reached into his pocket. Leave it to fucking Angelus to do a runner and stick him with the bleedin' bill - !

Debt paid, Spike stomped over to the Slayer's friends and interrogated them about her disappearance.

"She said she was going to the restroom!" Willow cried.

Spike resisted the urge to tear at his hair. "What the hell happened to the days when birds always had to go to the bloody loo together?"

Willow looked ready to cry. "My mom says public restrooms aren't sanitary!" she wailed.

Spike shook his head and walked off, leaving the pair staring after him.

Willow looked at Xander with a pout. "Sure, it's okay for him, he doesn't have to worry about germs!"

-000-

Spike caught up with the Slayer's trail outside the Bronze and followed her for several blocks before he ever caught up with her - inside a cemetery, no less.

"Are you out of your bloody mind, runnin' off like that?" Spike snarled quietly, grabbing her arm, noting she wore a light jacket over her dress, now.

"What are you lookin' for out here, anyway?"

"I saw Angelus leave."

Spike gripped her arm, dragging her to a halt. "He was out here?"

"Well, I kind of...I mean...I followed him from the Bronze." Buffy pulled free, and marched along the cemetery path. "He's just ahead of us, anyway."

Spike joined her after a moment, his boots crunching along with hers on the gravel.

"You followed him out here? By yourself?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "I told you to stay out of it."

Buffy stopped and glared at him. "I don't 'do' orders, remember?"

"What the bloody hell would you have done if - "

"Oh, stop pretending you care, Spike! I can take care of myself! Follow now, talk-y later!" Buffy snapped. "I've got better things to do right now."

Spike sneered at her, but didn't say anything else. He stayed close beside her as she hurried along the path. They reached the far end of the cemetery, and heard the creak of hinges. The path ended at a mausoleum, which was sheltered on the sides by tall pines and ivy.

Buffy paused in the moonlight and glanced around. She saw no one, except the angry vampire standing beside her.

She hurried toward the short, squat building, and it's door. "He must have gone in here."

Spike reached the gated door before she did. "Stay here," he growled impatiently.

Buffy curled her hands into fists at her sides as he stepped into the mausoleum. She took a furious step forward just as the night wind picked up and slammed the slightly open gate closed on it's rusty hinges. She hesitated, shivered a little, but reached out and opened the door again, slipping inside after Spike.

No sign of Angelus.

"Where'd he go?" She turned in a slow circle. Nothing.

"Thought I told you to wait out there!" Spike snarled from the shadows as he saw her. He stomped over to her and snatched her arm again. He pulled her outside.

"I'm gettin' real tired of this game, Summers. I talk, you listen, you got me?"

Buffy ignored him, shaking her head and looking around the silent cemetery.

"We lost him." she muttered, annoyed. "Damn. If you hadn't - "

"If I hadn't you'd probably be dead right now," Spike snarled again. "Why in the hell did you follow him? What were you thinkin'?"

"I...I wanted a better look at him. You know. I thought I'd kind of...size him up. New enemy, and all."

Spike tensed. "Was anyone else with him?"

"Nope." Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Next time you'd better not make me lose him."

"There's not gonna' be a next time, you bint! He coulda' killed you!"

"Oh, please. I wasn't stupid enough to think I could take him on my own right _now_."

Aggravated, Spike leaned down into her face. "If he knew you were followin' him, he woulda' faced you - _especially_ if he knew you were alone. Angelus likes his prey helpless."

""But he doesn't know that I'm the Slayer," Buffy said smugly. "So I'd have had one up on him anyway."

Spike thought grimly about his earlier discussion with his sire. "Wouldn't be so certain about that if I were you, love."

"I don't get this. You know who - what - I am. You know what kind of a threat he is. It's my job to kill him. I'll have to face him eventually."

"I know what kind of a threat he is to _you_. I don't want..._fuck_!" Spike violently raked his fingers through his hair. "You'll get hurt, Slayer!"

Buffy looked at him skeptically, though her heart skipped a beat. "You're worried about me getting hurt? This coming from the guy who just weeks ago threatened to pull out my ribcage and wear it as a hat?"

Spike glanced at the sky, jaw twitching as he fought for control. "I...don't want you involved in this," he finally muttered.

Buffy brushed past him. "Whatever."

"Those other Slayers...the ones I killed?"

Freezing mid-step, Buffy cautiously looked back at him over her shoulder. "Yeah? What about them?"

Spike's voice was low, even. "They were special, like you. Strong, like you. They tangled with me. Now they're dead." He looked at her with a disturbingly alien solemn expression. "You don't wanna' end up like them."

Buffy shrugged off the chill his words gave her. "I tangled with you, and I'm still alive, aren't I?" she challenged.

Spike smiled - showing off his dimples, damn him, Buffy acknowledged sourly - and shook his head. "You're different from them. Not better, not yet, but the potential's there. You will be. You actually might be able to take me one day. Those girls...none of them fought Angelus. Neither have you. In some ways, he's worse than I'll ever be. There's...stuff I never bothered to tell you about him before. Before I...at least I usually killed 'em quick. Angel...he plays with his victims. Tortures 'em."

Buffy wondered if he was trying to scare her, and realized he really was. "What's your point, Spike?"

The muscles twitching in the vampires lean jaw sprang taut as he glared at her from beneath his lashes. "My point is that those other Slayers are just memories to me, now. I'm not ready for you to be...just another memory to me. Not just yet," he ground out fiercely.

"You're _my_ Slayer, and if anyone's gonna' get to put you under, it's gonna' be me, understand? You remember that."

Buffy wasn't sure if she was supposed to be flattered or insulted. She didn't want to think about it too long, though. His words were giving her funny ideas. "Spike, I can take care of myself. Now let me go, I have a vampire to hunt - "

Pushed past the breaking point, he grabbed her arm again, halting her. In the next instant his arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her back against his chest. The impact against his hard body temporarily drove her breath from her lungs.

"I _am_ a vampire, in case you've forgotten."

"Spi-ike!"

The vampire wrapped a hand around her throat, silencing her.

"What would've happened if he'd gotten you like this, Slayer?" he asked, his voice harsh and quiet against her ear. "You wouldn't have had a chance."

Wincing at the tight hold, Buffy lifted her hands to try and yank his hand away.

"I've had Slayers like this before," he reminded her, his cool fingers dangerously tightening their hold. "Right before I killed 'em. Could snap your neck in a second, Slayer - and I have. I've broken long, pretty necks like yours before - listened to bones crack and muscles tear. Felt it all grind together under my teeth..." His lips touched her ear as he leaned in close.

"If Angelus got hold of you like this now, none of your fancy Watcher training could save you. I don't even know if _I_ could save you, come to that. He wouldn't make it quick or easy for you, either, pet."

His hand loosened just enough for her to speak. _"Let...go!"_

Spike dropped his hands, and then pushed her away.

"Get over yourself! We're never going to beat these guys if you keep telling me to keep out of it! In fact, I'm starting to wonder if that's really your intention at all!"

Spike came and stood over her, his eyes sparkling darkly, a brutal sneer on his lips.

"Angelus is an animal, a killer. The only way you can hope to break him is to be as vicious as he is, an' I don't think you can be that way, d'you? _I_ can."

Buffy stared at him, trembling, and bit her lip.

Spike's head suddenly shot up.

"What is it?"

"Dunno. Somethin' don't feel right. We should get out of here - now."

Buffy didn't argue. She followed Spike out of the mausoleum and back down the path, her agitation increasing. It felt like the night had gotten colder, darker -

"_Ssslayer..."_

Spike came to a skidding halt as a vampire - a huge, _huge_ vampire - jumped out in front of them.

Automatically, Buffy spun to look behind them - two more big, ugly vamps had cornered them. Her heart jumped in alarm. She'd fought some big vamps lately, but these guys looked like seasoned veterans.

"Spike..." Suddenly breathless, Buffy reached down, and pulled a stake out of the pocket of her jacket. It looked puny compared to the threat.

"_The Three," _she thought she heard Spike say under his breath.

"Bloody hell."

-000-

To be continued...

-000-

A/N: Fixed the spelling mistakes, **_did a revision, added three pages. 8/10/05 _**Thanks for the feedback! Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it. (Thanks for the fanart, Vanvliet! If you guys wanna check out an awesome airbrush head-shot of Buffy from this fic, check out Vanvliet's gallery at Media/Miner/./org ). - Dev

-000-


End file.
